Into the Wall: Back To Baker Street
by ShellyStark
Summary: Sequel for Into the Wall: Holmes and Samantha find themselves stuck in a new era with 6 problems to track down before they find a way back home.  "Welcome home Samantha," he whispered as his scruff tickled my neck.  "This isn't my home Sherlock, this isn't even my time."  "Home my dear, is wherever you are with me, whether it be here or there, or anywhere else for that matter."
1. Unfinished Business

**Unfinished Business**

**  
**

Sherlock Holmes; emotionally handicapped, current pain in my ass, constant meddler of my mind and the only person that had been able to rip my heart out, twice, and still manage to be the only one that I would give myself over to completely. It wasn't as hard as the first time, since I knew that I would be the one returning to him, but it still hurt. Would it be like that each time we separated? A note and some sort of memento? Did he do it for my sake or his? I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out an aggravated puff of air.

_What did you expect Samantha? Breakfast in bed and a happily ever after? _My mind chided.

"Fairy tales don't exist."

I heard the muffled whistle of the teapot, followed by a soft knock on the door.

"Sam?" Hannah's voice called. "I'm coming in Sam." She placed the mug down on the end stand and sat at the foot of the bed. "We'll have to get you some clothes. There is this great dress maker not to far from Baker Street."

"No, no lung crushing corsets and dresses for me thanks. If I'm going to be there for a while I'm going to be comfortable." I grumbled into my fluffy pink pig.

"But Sammy, most women-"

I sat up and locked my gray eyes onto her bright ones, my hair falling into my face.

"You of all people should know Hannah; I'm not like most girls."

She smiled softly, reaching out and twirling a strand of my cherry red hair around her finger.

"You should probably do something about this too," she chuckled, tugging gently on the lock of hair in her hold.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "The things I do so your happy ass can get married."

"Oh please Sam, you know you're going so you can be with him. The wedding is just a bonus," she winked, strolling over to my closest and dragging out my suitcase. "So I have a few of those vacuum sealed bag things, they come in handy for water travel, not a drop get's in. Grab what you need, strip that color out of your hair, and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon expecting you ready to go."

"Mmmm," I sighed, falling back onto the bed.

"Cheer up Sam, and don't be mad at him. It'll have been almost three months by the time we get there, he gets so…mopey without you."

She may have had a point, but I was still annoyed.

****

****

Turns out my natural hair color is more of a dark chocolate brown, with a hint of red that still showed through.

"Hmm, not to bad I suppose," I said to my dark haired reflection. I packed up the essentials, which consisted of my pig, Oreo's for my lonely sleuth, his pipe, and a few pieces of comfort clothing, that I would probably not be wearing very often. I sealed the bag and buckled everything up inside my small case.

It was time I went down and paid my little shop a goodbye.

"Samantha!" Stephen jumped over the counter and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Hey now! Not so hard."

"Oh sorry. You all right? Hannah told me about your…injuries," Stephen said, eying the bandage sticking out from the sleeve of my T-shirt.

"Of course she did," I chuckled making my way behind the counter. With a sad smile I set my hands on my hips I glanced around at the ovens that had been my life for the past few years. The countless burns and broken coffee cups had become a part of my daily routine; and now I was just leaving it all behind.

"You'll be back Sam," Stephen said, resting a hand over my shoulder, attempting to comfort me.

"Eventually," I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

I spent the rest of the day enjoying the last few hours I would spend baking for the Nations oldest city. As usual, business was slow, not that I minded, the sweet smell of baked goods was enough for me. Just me, the radio, and racks full of hot pans in my little back room, bopping along to the music beats, only managing to burn myself once or twice.

"Hey Sam?" Stephen stuck his head between the double swing doors.

"Hi!" I grinned, poking my head around a rolling track full of banana nut muffins.

"Um…there a cop here, he is asking for you," Stephen grimaced, running his hand through his hair.

"A city cop? Did you cause some trouble while I was gone?" I chuckled, pulling out a tray of cookies.

"He's from Atlanta…and there is some suit with him."

The pan fell from my hands, sending cookies in every direction.

"Why are they here Sam?"

"I have no idea."

"Samantha Parker?" the sandy haired stout cop asked as I emerged from behind the counter.

"Yes, that's me."

"My name is Randy Travers, this here is Matthew Landis," he said motioning to the lanky man dressed in a suit and tie standing behind him. "Can we speak with you for a few moments?"

I nodded, locked the shop door and clicked off the open sign.

"You're going to have to leave sir," Travers said, looking at Stephen.

"This is Stephen, my brother, he can stay," I said quietly pulling out a chair.

Travers looked at his suited companion, who only nodded.

"All right then," he said, taking the seat across from me. "Ms. Parker I was a long time friend of your fathers, he asked me if anything should happen to him that I make this appearance personally, Mr. Landis is here for legal reasons."

"Our father has been dead for almost ten years," Stephen cut in.

"You're father Mr. Parker, died two days ago." Travers replied.

"No, you're wrong. Tell him Sam."

"He's telling the truth Stephen, I'll explain later," I said flatly.

"Explain now Samantha!" He shouted, hard eyes bearing into mine.

"Later Stephen, let them finish what they need to do." I laid a hand across Stephen's back.

"Well Ms. Parker, Phillip wanted to make sure you and your brother we're taken care of. So after his personal debts were taken care of, that leaves the two of you with a total of 346,000 dollars. Oh and the deed to a house located on A1A. I am aware you already have the key."

"What!" My eyebrows nearly shot off my forehead. "How did you know I have the key?"

"Forget the damn house Sam, that's almost half a million dollars!" Stephen exclaimed.

"Shut up Stephen!"

"You're father knew that your mother wanted to keep it in the family, he even stayed there every few months to keep everything in shape." Travers continued on calmly. "He knew that your mother would leave you a key behind somehow, Mr. Landis here also represented your mother before she passed, he contacted me after you retrieved the lock box in Atlanta."

"What is he talking about Sam?" Stephen asked, leaning into my side.

"Later," I said through gritted teeth.

"If you would Ms. Parker," Landis spoke up, placing a stack of papers on the table. "I'll need you to sign a few things, and then we will be on our way."

I sifted through the pile, signing, initialing, scribbling down bank account numbers, until my little fingers were sore.

"Thank you for your time Ms. Parker," Landis said, securing his briefcase and walking briskly out the door.

"I'm sorry about your father, he talked about you kids all the time," Travers said sadly, shaking both of our hands before he too left my shop.

"Out with it Samantha, tell me what the hell happened in Atlanta." Stephen berated me the moment they were gone.

"Sit back down…and get comfy."

****

I rambled on about the burn marks, my father's brother Patrick, dad's FBI involvement, Rivera, Frank, my capture and narrow escape, dad dying in front of me…again, and the box that mom left behind. Stephen sat wide eyed, mouth gaping, interrupting me every so often to go more into detail.

"He was alive, all that time he was alive." Stephen blinked as I came to a stop.

"Mmmhmm."

"And you were right. Mom was murdered," he said softly. "I'm sorry Sam, sorry I never believed you."

"What's done is done Stephen. Besides," I said cheerfully, brushing the flour from my jeans. "Now I can buy out the shop and the apartment, and you yours, and I won't have to worry about going bankrupt while I'm living it up in Victorian London." I patted his shoulders. "Be good to my little bakery Stephen."

"I'll miss you Sam," he said sadly.

"I know." I gave him a gentle hug and a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving my hard work behind.

****

****

Hannah brought me a survival suit to slip on under my clothes.

"The water will be absolutely freezing, lucky for us John and I set up a small buoy where we should surface, there should be a self inflating raft attached to the bottom to get us to shore."

"And how exactly did you get your hands on this stuff," I asked, squeezing into my suit.

"I do have other friends Sam," Hannah chuckled. "We better get going."

Freezing was an understatement. It felt as if there were hundreds of daggers sticking into my chest, despite the survival suit, as the water of the Thames surrounded me. By the time I reached the surface Hannah already had the raft inflated and was climbing in. Luckily enough it was dark, not too many people to wonder where the strange boat floating in the water had come from. She reached out and helped pull me in, quickly snapping open her case, unsealing her bags, and pulling out some dry thick blankets.

"Thanks," I said through chattering teeth as she tossed one to me.

"Help me paddle okay?" she shivered.

We dragged the boat onshore and pulled the plug, stuffing it inside her now empty case.

"All you brought was blankets?" I asked.

"Yea," she breathed. "Everything else I need is already here. Come on, John has a patient that lives near here, he has a buggy and all, he'll give us a ride."

****

It was late when we arrived at Baker Street, almost midnight, the streets quiet with an occasional drunken straggler stumbling down the alleyways.

"Mrs. Hudson is most likely asleep," Hannah whispered as she slid the door open into the main room. Quietly we went up the stairs, pausing as we reached the top.

"Well," Hannah sighed. "Here we are. I'll see you in the morning okay?" she smiled, disappearing into the door across the hall.

I leaned my head back against the door and sighed. I did not have any idea where to start, hell, I didn't know if I should even knock or just barge on in and give him a piece of my mind for just vanishing. My body went stiff as I heard a rattle from the other side of the door, quickly turning around just in time for it to slowly open, reveling that familiar disheveled oddity of a man. His chocolate eyes full of surprise and his mouth slightly open.

"Samantha? I-"

My hand met his rugged cheek before he could finish. I took a few steps forward, pushing into his tattered robe. "Don't you ever leave like that again! How could you possibly think that was better?" I shot out at him, pushing him back into his room, shutting the door with my foot as I went.

"Is that too much to ask of you Holmes, to actually say goodbye? Yes I would have been upset, but you just left…you left and I…you just…you," I closed my eyes and brushed away the tears that were starting to build at the corners.

"Are you quite done darling?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes.

I nodded, not being able to find anymore words to say.

"Good."

Quickly he closed the gap between us, his lips crashing down onto mine as he rested his hands on my hips. Slipping my hands under the back of his shirt, I let my hands wander over the warmth of his skin.

"Welcome home Samantha," he whispered as his scruff tickled my neck.

"This isn't my home Sherlock, this isn't even my time."

"Home my dear, is wherever you are with me, whether it be here or there, or anywhere else for that matter," he smiled, tucking my damp hair behind my ear. "Come now, I was almost asleep when I heard that noisy girl come up the stairs." Taking my hand he guided me through the maze of books and random furniture scattered about in the lamplight.

"You got a bed?" I laughed, eyeing the mattress tucked away in the corner.

"Yes….well…it is more comfortable after all," he chuckled. "Now let's get you dry and off to bed."

Gingerly he helped me out of the survival suit that was under my clothes, his fingers lightly dragging across my skin. "I'll have Watson look you over in the morning; your ribs will still need tending to." He pulled off his shirt and slipped it over my head, before tugging me down onto the mattress.

"I'm glad you're here Samantha," he whispered, placing a kiss into my hair as I curled into his side, welcoming the warmth of his arms around me.

"It seems Mr. Holmes," I paused, tilting my head up and placing a chaste kiss to his lips. "That I lack the ability to stay away from you."

****

****

**A/N: Horray It's finally Here! Updated may be far and few between, this wasn't going to get done for a while, but it kept floating to the surface of my head, distracting me from other projects. Hope you all enjoyed, I did. It had been to long living with out my favorite duo!**

**Much Love**

**-Shelly**


	2. Small Secrets

**Small Secrets**

**(Samantha)**

The sun crept into the room through the dusty maroon curtains, casting shadows along the walls. Slowly I turned in Sherlock's hold and was met by those big brown curious eyes.

"Morning," I said softly, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Good Morning Samantha," he replied, pulling me in closer to him. "Did you sleep well darling?"

"Mmhmm, no dreams, no voices, just your warmth and sleep."

"Mmmm," Sherlock's hand weaved into my hair. "This is new," he said, letting his fingers glide through the silky strands.

"This is apparently natural," I chuckled. "And you're stuck with it."

"It suits you," he grinned, his hand now trailing down the curve of my body and resting on the small of my back. "I've missed this" Sherlock said softly, making small circles with his finger tips. Our sweet moments were far and few between and I cherished every single one of them. Holding onto them hoping each one would be longer than the last.

"What are we going to do Sherlock?"

"I do believe we will be attending a wedding soon, I've never seen Mrs. Hudson so excited, she thinks the world of your Hannah."

"Then what? What happens after John and Hannah are married, what happens…to us." I pulled my look away from his, my eyes turning down towards the sheets.

"You'll most likely want to return. As much as I want to go back with you Samantha I can't, not yet. Mycroft has informed me that he requires my help regarding some strange events around his home and I have already agreed to do what I can to assist him." Sherlock gently cupped my cheek coaxing me to face him.

"Or you could stay…for a while…if you'd like to," he whispered, looking down at me with warmth behind his sweet eyes. A wide smile grew across my face; life on Baker Street would be a drastic change, but I had the feeling it would be worth it.

"I'll think about it," I said quietly, reaching up and running my hand through his slightly longer hair.

He broke out into a full smile, small adoring crinkles forming around his eyes, the smile that he shared with few people throughout his lifetime. Sherlock lowered his head and softly claimed my lips with his own, lightly nipping at my bottom lip, before moving down my neck.

There was a brisk knock at the door before it opened.

"I've brought you up your morning tea Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson's cheery voice rang out as she weaved her way into the room.

"Not now, nanny," Sherlock mumbled against my skin. "I insist you leave it by the door and-"

"Nonsense, I'll just bring it in and…oh…my apologies Mr. Holmes." Mrs. Hudson was now standing a few feet from the edge of the bed, with an amused look on her face. "Hello dear, you must be Samantha; I was hoping you'd show up one of these days."

"Hello," I laughed, wiggling my fingers from beside Sherlock's face.

"Mrs. Hudson please!" Sherlock groaned.

"I'll just leave the tea here then," she said in a hushed tone, setting the tray atop a pile of books. "Nice to meet you dear," she called over her shoulder as she exited the room.

"Now where was I?" Sherlock whispered, lowering his lips down to mine

The door quickly opened once more and Mrs. Hudson's head popped into the room, seconds before our lips met.

"Would you like me to bring you up some tea Samantha dear?" she called from the doorway.

"No thank you," I laughed, amused by the look of annoyance that was on Sherlock's face.

"Coffee perhaps?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"No thanks, I'm fine really." I replied

"Or maybe you would like some-"

"She said she's fine Nanny! Now please let us be!" Sherlock shouted, snapping his head toward the door.

Mrs. Hudson mumbled something under her breath as the door clicked shut.

"She was only trying to be nice Sherlock," I chuckled, wiggling out from under him. I padded across the floor and opened up my suitcase, unsealing the air tight bags that were inside.

"Yes, well I preferred it better when I hardly saw her at all. Her constant intrusions can be most irritating," his muffled voice said from the crook in his elbow.

I rummaged around in the bottom of the bag until my fingers wrapped around the stem of his pipe, gently lifting it out. My eyes froze on the dark brown folding picture frame that usually sat face down, now standing up right and facing the window.

My heart fell in my chest.

Had she come back? Had she grown tired of her husband and returned to Baker Street to lure Sherlock back to her? I tossed the pipe onto the bed and pulled on a pair of khakis.

"Have you been busy? Since you've come back here?" I said quietly, my eyes lingering on the frame.

"Some minor cases, nothing that took up a large amount of time. Watson's mind has been elsewhere, so it's been rather quiet lately. Not that I…" Sherlock stopped talking. I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist and I was lightly tugged into his side, his scruff scratching against my ear.

"Now, now Samantha," he whispered hotly next to my ear. "I had wanted to tell you about that myself, but it seems I'm a little late for that."

"Maybe I should have stayed home," I said dryly, making it a point to keep my eyes straight ahead.

"Don't say that darling," he sighed and released his grip on my wrist. "Turn it around."

"What?" I asked, closing my eyes and biting my lip.

"The frame Samantha, turn it around," he said, walking away, pulling a shirt over his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

I let my fingers trace the top edges before gingerly taking it between my fingers and turning it toward me, my jaw dropping slightly at the picture staring back at me.

"Sherlock." I glanced up at him, and then back at the frame.

"Hmmm?"

"Where did that come from?" I asked nodding at the picture. "When did you-"

"While you were sleeping, the night before I first left," he said softly, a sideways smirk growing on his face. "It was the only one without any color."

"It's from Kyle's sister's wedding," I said looking down at a close up of myself leaning against a tree, my dark curls were shorter then and the top layers fell around my face. "She insisted on black and white pictures."

"Well, how fortunate for me then," Sherlock said, strapping on a pair of suspenders and slipping on a dark blue waist coat. "I have an appointment to keep with Lestrade, I'll be back shortly." He crossed the room and took me by the shoulders, looking longingly at me with his expressive dark eyes. Something was off; I had been around him long enough to be able to read him, almost as well as he could read me. It was almost as if he wanted to tell me something, something big, but something was holding him back.

"Make sure Watson has a look at your wounds while I'm gone," he said, still gazing at me with a lost expression on his face. He sighed, running his hands down the length of my arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head before heading out the door.

I sat thinking to myself in his velvet lined armchair, looking out onto the busy London street, occasionally my eyes would wander to the items scattered around the room. Only Sherlock Holmes would have jars containing dead mice sitting on top of his desk, and only I would find that it felt completely natural to be surrounded by such things. I drank the tea Mrs. Hudson had left behind, which was surprisingly still warm, warm and sweet, just the thing I needed to brighten up my morning. Not that waking up beside Sherlock wasn't enough.

There was a light knocking at the door right before John's figure appeared in the door way, Hannah right behind him, bouncing on her toes.

"Good Morning Samantha," he greeted me with a smile. "Good to see you again."

"Hi John, good to see you too," I grinned.

"Hannah and Mrs. Hudson has arranged for the three of you to go to the dress maker and Holmes wanted me to look over your injuries." He stepped into the room allowing Hannah to enter and rush to my side.

"I already have my dress being worked on," she began. "And don't get angry but I already had them start yours too, I promise you'll like it, I sent John back with instructions when he came back."

"What if I would have said no?" I asked arching an eyebrow. "I didn't have to come you know."

"I just knew," she said cheerily, sitting down in the chair across from mine.

John had walked over and stood beside me. "Mind if I take a look then?" he asked.

"Be my guest," I replied, lifting the bottom of the shirt up so could get a look at my bruised mid-section. John gently felt around my ribs, his fingers tracing along the bone lines. He wrapped me up and changed the bandage on my arm, shaking his head.

"He hated to leave you the way he did you know," John said, finishing up with the dressing on my arm. "Make sure you keep that clean, and change it twice daily."

"Then why did he?" I asked, curious to find out what information he had divulged to his dear doctor.

"Holmes will be Holmes," he replied.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," he laughed.

"Sherlock said he had to go see Lestrade," I said nonchalantly, running a hand through my hair. John's blue eyes snapped up to meet mine, his eyebrows were furrowed slightly.

"Do you happen do know what for?" I asked, keeping my eyes locked onto his.

"No, I wasn't aware he intended on seeing him this morning." John said looking away.

"That's because he didn't," I said, leaning forward. "Where did he really go John?" I asked accusingly. "What's he hiding from me?"

John broke his eye contact with me and brought his hand up to his face, rubbing his forehead.

"He said he won't start working on it until after the wedding. He knew you'd be here and wanted to wait," John said taking a deep breath.

"Wait for what? Where did he go?"

"He went to see his brother Mycroft, things were getting worse," John said quietly.

"Like what?" I asked.

John's eyes met mine again, and he set a hand on my knee. "You need to speak with him about it Samantha, I wish not to start something between the two of you, but you really should ask him yourself." John turned to leave after giving Hannah a peck on the cheek.

"Don't be cross with him Samantha, as I said Holmes will be Holmes," he said before leaving the room.

**(Holmes)**

Mycroft stood in front of the fireplace in the main sitting room with his hands behind his portly body, watching the flames dance out and lick the mantle with their fiery tongues.

"Welcome brother," he greeted me, not bothering to turn around to face me.

"Mycroft," I replied, walking further into the room. Bright red drapes with gold tassels hung in the windows, countless books lined the bookshelves with priceless paintings between them. Mycroft had always enjoyed the finer things in life, especially the ones that came with a higher cost.

"I was hoping you could begin to look into what we had discussed the last time we spoke," Mycroft said, slowly turning his body to me. "I've lost two more since then and it has become quite an inconvenience."

"I told you I would begin after Watson's wedding, not a day sooner," I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my pipe.

"She came to you then? That woman," he inquired.

"Yes, _Samantha _has returned to Baker Street and I'd rather not upset her if I don't need to," I answered. Mycroft chuckled, pulling his watch from the pocket of his waist coat as my fingers traced the one that lay in the pocket of my trousers.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day you'd put up such a fuss over a woman," Mycroft laughed shaking his head.

"Neither did I," I said quietly.

"I suppose I will have to wait then, but not a day longer my dear brother, I'd hate to loose another one." Mycroft crossed the room and briskly patted me on the back. "I'll see you at the wedding; I'm rather excited to meet this Samantha."

I nodded once and exited the house, snowflakes fluttering down onto my cab.

It was all I could do to hope that Samantha would stay; it would make things much easier in the end. I had wanted to tell her so badly, I knew she would have the same thoughts as me on the subject, but would not want to take the same course of actions. There was no saying what or where Mycroft's issue would lead me to, but I wanted her with me none-the-less. I had missed her dearly in the last two months, her softness and her warmth, the way her cheeks flushed when she was angry with me, building my need for her. The wedding was less than a week away…and that was much too soon to loose my sweet Samantha again.

**A/N: Yes I'm alive :p And happily updating for you all! Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, they make me really happy, I love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading and I'll be back soon :D**

**-Shelly  
**


	3. Explanations

**Explanations**

**(Holmes)**

Samantha was fast asleep in my armchair when I returned; the trip to Mycroft's had taken longer than usual and the sun had set long ago. Dressed in her own clothing, as well as being wrapped up in my robe; she had pulled the chair close to the window; a tea cup sat balancing on the windowsill. Carefully, I scooped her up, her arms reflexively going around my neck and her head resting on my chest.

"I wanted to see the snow, I've never seen actual snow before," she yawned; her breath was sweet and warm.

"It's a bit early for snow," I said quietly so I wouldn't wake her completely.

I laid her down onto the bed, removing my old robe from her body and pulling the covers around her.

"It's pretty," she whispered, her silver lined eyes smiling up at me for a moment before she fell back asleep.

I built up the fire so she would be sure to keep warm, and then took a seat in my chair by the window, puffing on my pipe as I watched the snowflakes fall.

"Holmes," someone said as something was pushed into my chest. "Get up Holmes!"

Quickly, I opened my eyes to see Watson standing before me, cane grasped firmly in his hand with a scowl upon his face.

"We need to speak about this issue with your brother."

"There is nothing to discuss Watson, I shall deal with it when the time comes," I said leaning back and letting my eyes rest.

"Will that be before or after you inform Samantha about the matter," Watson pried.

"It will _be_ when _ever _and which _ever_ I decide," I remarked, standing from my chair and eying the empty bed from the corner of my eye. Surely she was off with the future Mrs. Watson; and hopefully too busy to notice my recent off-putting mannerisms. It wasn't fair to keep her in the dark about this, especially after she had left her world behind to visit mine, even if it was only a temporary situation. I had decided to tell her, but not until after the wedding, then she could decide whether or not she wanted to remain here and aid me with the events surrounding my brother's country home.

* * *

**(Samantha)**

"Isn't it beautiful?" Hannah said adoringly as she swished the bottom of her dress along the floor. It was; with a corset style intricate top and perfectly placed ripples that flowed throughout the bottom in a soft off white color. The seamstress had managed to fold the scraps into two large flowers and had them placed right along the top of her thigh area. Appropriate, with a modern twist; and everything I would have expected out of her.

But my mind was elsewhere; far off from the world of fabric flowers and lace.

I had vaguely remembered Sherlock moving me from the chair to the bed, as well as waking up alone while he snored softly in the very same chair, feet propped up against the window sill. I had promised John I'd do my best to understand his reason for keeping quiet about his visit to Mycroft's.

"Its fine Hannah," I flatly answered her, as the elderly woman on her knees near my hip stuck me with her needle once again. "I can feel that you know," I said as I flinched away from her wrinkled hands.

"So sorry dear. Almost done now," she replied apologetically.

"Fine? What do you mean fine?" Hannah marched across the dress makers shop and stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. "This is about the biggest day of my life and all you have to say is fine?" Hannah snapped. "Get out of that head of yours for two seconds and share the moment with me, enjoy yourself and stop thinking about whatever trouble that sneaky sleuth of yours is up to."

It was hard not to think about it; Sherlock had a habit of making himself comfortable in my mind, overtaking any other thoughts I might have. But she was right, I was here for my friend; and for her I would suck it up and make sure she was the happiest bride London had ever seen.

"Ow!" I jumped as the seamstress used me as her human pin cushion once more.

"There we go dearie, that should just about do it then." She got up off her knees and brushed off her hands, carefully tucking a needle away between the top folds of her dress. "Pretty as a field of flowers on a fresh spring day the two of you are," she smiled, stopping briefly to fidget with some of Hannah's beading. I studied myself in the mirror, the pale yellow square cut dress clinging to me in all the right ways, the satin fabric flowing out and pooling around my feet. It had beading at the top as well to mirror Hannah's, just enough to make it stand out, but I was quick to tell her that I refused to be in one of those get-ups covered with more frills and lace than the entire contents of my closet at home.

"Well look at you Sam," Hannah said coming up behind me. "You look nice when you dress like a girl, maybe you should try it more often."

"Oh shut up," I laughed. "You look great Hannah, really."

"I know," she beamed, running her hands down the length of her dress and admiring herself in the mirror. "Three days Sam. Three days and I will be Mrs. Hannah Watson," Hannah said softly as she played with the ring on her finger. "I only wish my parents were here." With a sad smile she turned and went to sit on the pedestal in the center of the room.

"Hey now, don't get yourself down, you're supposed to be happy remember. Big beautiful wedding with your kind doctor. Besides, I bet once they do find out they'll be happy to throw you another one." I said in an attempt to get her to smile.

"You think so?" she asked.

"I know so," I grinned grabbing her hands and pulling her to her feet. "Now let's get back before it drops below freezing out there."

* * *

Sherlock was studying the jars of mice on the desk when I entered the room, turning each one of them around and scribbling down notes in a small red leather bound book.

"Good evening Samantha dear," he said with out looking up from his work.

"Hey," I whispered, sitting down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He said nothing, continuing to examine the contents of each jar. He glanced up at me when he was finished then with out a word got up and went to sit on the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees he put his head in his hands.

"Are you angry with me Samantha?" his muffled voice asked.

"What aren't you telling me Sherlock?" I countered.

He sighed and rubbed his scalp. "Are you angry?" he asked again.

"Upset yes, angry no…not yet anyway." I went and took my place beside him. "So what are you hiding? I know you want to tell me Sherlock, so what's holding you back?"

"You are," he said plainly.

"What do you mean I am?" I said accusingly.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter," he muttered, shaking his head. Sherlock got up and went to stand at the window with his back turned to me.

"What exactly doesn't matter about it Holmes?" I spat out. "The things you said to me while I lied in your bed, I didn't seem to be holding you back then. Was I holding you back while you went through withdraw and I went in search for your Watson? Or maybe, I held you back by keeping you in Atlanta, while everything I thought I knew about my parents was shattered right in front of me."

"Samantha don't-" he attempted to cut in.

"No you don't! Don't tell me I'm holding you back and then tell me it doesn't matter. Unless it's me that doesn't matter." I shouted.

"You don't understand Samantha," he growled, finally turning to face me.

"Then make me understand Sherlock! Tell me what the hell is going on in that damned head of yours!" I waited for him to say something; he just stared at me with darkness in his eyes and kept his mouth shut. I grabbed a coat and went for the door. "I need some air," I whispered, pulling on the handle. I was pressed up against the door as Sherlock's hand pushed it closed, shaking the door frame.

"Would you like to know what I'm thinking Samantha?" he asked in a rough tone, his body pressed up against my back.

"Perhaps you would like to hear about how for months my brother has been pestering me to get started on his case and I told him to wait until I had the chance to see you again." Sherlock spun me around and pinning me to the door once more.

"What's holding me back Samantha, is your own indecisive mind, on whether or not you intend on staying with me, or leaving in three days."

"And why is that Holmes?"

"Because if you leave there will be no way to know when I will see you again," he whispered.

"So tell me."

"Will you stay?" he asked, adjusting himself so his face was inches away from mine.

"Will you tell me?"

Sherlock sighed and pressed a kiss on my cheek. "After the wedding, you have my word."

"Then that's when you'll have my answer," I whispered dropping my head onto his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his body.

"Come to bed Samantha, it's far too cold for you to be wandering about, and I really don't wish to argue with you any further," Sherlock said, his breath warm on the top of my head.

"Me either," I replied letting him slip the coat from my shoulders.

* * *

The next few days dragged on painfully slow; each of us trying to be careful not to press the others buttons. Mrs. Hudson was busy chasing Hannah around making sure everything was on schedule and John was tying up some loose ends with his patients so he could take Hannah to Paris on their honeymoon.

It was going to be a small ceremony; thirty to forty guests followed by a small reception. We took separate cabs to the church; Hannah and I in one, John and Sherlock in the other, then went off to our separate rooms to get ready to get things started. Hannah was more than happy to have Mrs. Hudson armed with at least three other women fidgeting with her dress and hair, which was pinned up in tight curls on top of her head. I was lucky enough to escape the wrath of their combs, convincing them to let me wear it down, my soft dark curls tumbling down well past my shoulders.

It was almost time now, Mrs. Hudson sent me to check and make sure things with John were all right and that everyone was in their proper place. Sherlock stepped out from the door down the hallway just as I was about to knock. Dressed in a crisp black suit, with his shirt cuffs unbuttoned and sticking out of his jacket and his tie askew. He froze at the sight of me, the corners of his lips twitching up.

"Samantha I…you…you look…" he stammered as he looked me over. I reached up and gave him a soft silencing kiss.

"Thank you," I whispered, resting my forehead against his. "Everything all set?"

"Mmm, it would appear so," he replied.

"Good, I'll see you again soon then Mr. Holmes," I said, momentarily considering fixing his tie, but deciding that it fit him just the way it was.

"I'm looking forward to it Ms. Parker," he grinned, turning on his heel and heading down the hall.

The wedding itself was beautiful, poor Mrs. Hudson sitting in the front pew clutching a handkerchief as if it were going to be ripped from her aged hands. The pair of them looked genuinely happy as they exchanged their vows and sealed the deal with a lingering kiss. The reception was just as nice; various flowers wrapped around the columns in the room, a string quartet providing soft flowing music for the happy new couple to dance to. Hannah had got the wedding she had always dreamed of, and I don't think she could have looked any happier as their dance came to an end.

I stood arm-in-arm with Sherlock, enjoying the music and the wine when a tall stout man with familiar dark hair and facial features and stormy gray eyes approached us.

"Well now," he said with a smirk on his face. "So this must be the intriguing creature that has captivated my brother's mind. Mycroft Holmes," he said taking my hand and squeezing softly. "I hold a small place in the British government."

"He is the British government," Sherlock mumbled from my side.

"Samantha Parker," I said taking back my hand.

"Well Ms. Parker, would it be too much trouble to ask you for a dance? If my brother doesn't mind of course," Mycroft asked.

"Samantha if fully capable of making her own decisions Mycroft, she does not require any type of approval from me," Sherlock said with a low tone, tightening his hold on my arm.

"I'd be glad to Mr. Holmes," I said sweetly, patting Sherlock's hand assumingly, attempting to ease some of the tension that surrounded us like a thick fog.

Mycroft led me to the middle of the room and took the lead. For man of his size he seemed to have no trouble guiding me around the dance floor in time with the music.

"You hide your injuries well my dear, then again, you've had enough practice doing that throughout your life time so I suppose it's only natural for you," Mycroft said slyly as we moved together.

"No need to impress me Mr. Holmes, I know nearly as much about you as I do your brother," I replied.

"Is that so? And how is it that an inept baker won over the heart of my dear brother. That is no easy task you know," Mycroft chuckled.

"Nothing, involving Sherlock, is ever easy."

"Of course it isn't, or else he would have told you about my situation by now; but it seems, that for some reason _you_ are in the way," Mycroft said as he turned me around.

"And what situation would that be?" I asked.

"Ahh, he'll be upset with me if I say anything more," he replied.

"That doesn't seem like that would be anything new," I said, arching an eyebrow.

Mycroft chuckled and looked back in Sherlock's direction. "Indeed it would not," he replied. "A few months back I lost one of my house maids," Mycroft began.

"Lost as in how?" I asked.

"Lost as in gone, vanished, one would seem to think that she just disappeared. At first I thought maybe she just grew tired of her work and returned to her home…but then I lost another…and a total of six since then," he said quietly, as if the people around us were listening in.

"Maybe you're just not pleasing to work for," I said half jokingly.

"Perhaps, but days before each disappearance, each one of them kept going on about something shimmering beyond the hedges," he said with raised brows. I abruptly stopped our dance and stood still in the middle of the floor, locking eyes with Sherlock, who was standing next to John.

"Well," I said sucking in my bottom lip. "That explains everything."

* * *

**A/N: Oohhh dear, first let me apologize for making you wait so long… Pepperony Holiday challenges have invaded my Christmas spirit, and I had missed writing the pair of them so much I just couldn't stop. But hopefully most of that has worked it's way somewhat out of my system and I can get back to my favorite duo. Hope you all enjoyed, let me know, and feel free to throw fruit cake at me if you'd like :P **

**-Shelly**


	4. Desicions

**Decisions**

**(Holmes)**

I couldn't help but notice how ravishing Samantha looked as my brother led her away from me. The fabric was perfectly molded to her, showing off every delicate curve on her body. I tried to ignore the sharp stab of jealousy as Mycroft's hand rested on her hip and the two of them engaged in what seemed to be comfortable conversation. I wasn't one for dancing, but in that moment I had instantly regretted not involving myself in the intimate gesture with her myself.

Watson had left his bride to mingle amongst the other guests and came to stand at my side, patting my back in a brotherly manner.

"Shouldn't that be you out there old boy?" he asked, nodding in Mycroft's and Samantha's direction, watching as he effortlessly twirled her around the room.

"I didn't ask her," I replied. "I realize now that perhaps I should have…Do you think she will choose to stay Watson?"

"You still haven't told her have you?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"Not yet, but I promised I would by night's end." I sighed and stuffed my hands into my pockets; grazing over the watch. "I can't bear to loose her Watson, not this soon."

I watched as the pair of them danced around the other couples gliding across the floor, still envious at the closeness she was sharing with none other than my elder brother. Watching as he quietly made his own deductions about her, attempting to figure out the beautiful mind that stood before him.

"Do you love her Holmes?" I heard Watson ask from my side.

"To the point of madness," I said quietly, closing my eyes and sighing once more.

"Then go to her Holmes. Tell her everything. You never know; she may surprise you."

Their dance stopped suddenly and Samantha's silver blue eyes met mine as she stepped away from Mycroft's grasp. Quickly, I made my way to her, not wasting a moment as I slid an arm around her and pulled her close, breathing in her lavender scented curls.

Mycroft nodded once to me and left us to be alone. Samantha hesitated momentarily before relaxing and moving along with me across the floor.

"Samantha I-"

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are a complete idiot," she hissed into my ear; her body betraying her mind as she allowed her self to press even more into my body.

"What makes you say that darling?"

"Mycroft was quick to let the cat out of the bag," Samantha curtly replied.

"And has that upset you?" I asked, pulling back slightly to capture her gray eyes with my own, hoping to find some sign that she too had been drawn in by the familiarity of my brother's ordeal. Her lips were tight and thin, and the lack of blue in her gaze was disconcerting indeed, however, she still made herself comfortable in my arms, gently raking her fingers through the hair just above my neckline.

"I honestly don't know how I feel Sherlock," Samantha sighed. She slowed our dance and brought it to a stop. Laying her hands on my chest as a sad smile crept onto her face. She sighed once more before shaking her head, blinkingly slowly at me with her now colorless eyes. She turned away and briskly began to walk towards the door.

"Samantha wait," I called after her, only to no avail; she kept her back turned and her head forward as she left me standing alone in the center of the room.

"Samantha!" I tried again. The speed of her steps had done nothing but increase as I watched the door swing closed behind her. She was hurt, genuinely hurt, I knew that much; I had placed her into the ultimate decision. To go home, back to her bakery to spend her days waiting for something that may never come, or remain by my side and step into the unknown, not knowing when or if we shall return.

* * *

I found her sitting alone on a stone bench just outside the church doors. It was an unusually clear night, despite the soft snow flakes fluttering towards the ground. The moon light made her skin glow and the flakes left small glittering wet patches on her bare shoulders. She extended an arm out and let the snow land in the palm of her hand, smiling sadly as she rubbed them with the pad of her thumb. I removed my coat and placed it around her slightly shivering body before sitting down beside her.

"I've come to believe that the only reason snow has fallen so early is because you're here," I said in a weak attempt to lift her spirits.

"Lucky me," she replied, rubbing her hands together, wiping them clean of winters mark.

"I wanted to tell you myself Samantha," I said softly. "I never thought Mycroft would be the one to inform you."

"He wouldn't have," she said. "At least I don't think he would have…if I hadn't of asked, and for that I am the one who should be sorry." She shifted her position to face me, a mixture of emotions stirred behind her features. "I should have waited, I would have much rather of heard it from you," she said softly, folding her hands into her lap and closing her eyes as her head fell forward, causing her hair to fall in front of her face. "Maybe then it would have been easier," she whispered

Gently, I tilted her chin up and tucked her dark tresses behind her ear, stroking her cheek with my thumb while the hurt in her eyes made my stomach clench.

"Perhaps I should have told you sooner," I told her as my hands slid down her arms and my fingers found hers in my coat sleeves.

"You'll go anyway won't you? Even if I choose to leave?" she asked.

"You already know the answer to that Samantha," I sighed, giving her a weak smile.

"Yea," she scoffed. "Its part of who you are I suppose." She curled her delicate fingers around my hands and squeezed gently before standing up and walking back towards the church doors. I hung my head and sighed, placing my hands inside my pockets, worried about the inevitable choice she still had to make. My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when two small hands landed on either side of my face, pushing back into my hair as a pair of familiar lips quickly came down onto my own; hungrily exploring the depths of my mouth as her legs straddled one side of me.

"You're an idiot, Sherlock Holmes," she said sternly, abruptly ending our kiss. "You are an idiot for thinking that for one second that I would give you up and let you wander into the unknown without me."

I blankly stared back at her, trying to withhold the bottle of joy that was beginning to over flow inside of me.

"So you'll be staying then?" I asked her with a crooked grin.

"It would appear to be so," she replied, her gray eyes starting to fill with color. I wasted no time in getting to my feet and pulling her into my arms, holding her tightly as the snow danced around us.

"I was almost certain that you would choose to leave," I whispered into her hair as my hands cradled her back.

"You've given up years of your life for me Sherlock; years of one lifetime to spend mere days with me. It's my turn, to give up something for you," she said resting her head on my shoulder.

"I don't regret a single moment Samantha and I wouldn't think twice about doing it all over again," I softly replied. "Now come, my dear, before the Watsons wonder where we have disappeared to." She hooked her arm through mine as I led her back inside with a smile on my face and a warmth in my heart.

* * *

**(Samantha)**

Hannah latched onto my neck once I told her I wasn't returning home, squeezing the air out of my lungs and putting a nice amount of unwanted pressure on my already aching ribs.

"Oh Sammy," she squealed. "Just when I thought this day couldn't get any better."

"I wouldn't get too excited just yet Hannah," I said sipping my drink. "We're leaving for Mycroft's in the morning, and who the hell knows when we'll be able to find our way back from wherever it is those maids are disappearing to."

"True, true, but I just know you'll find a way, and when you do you can teach Mrs. Hudson how to properly bake cranberry muffins," Hannah laughed. "She does try, poor thing."

"Cranberry muffins?" I asked arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Sherlock kept going on and on about them the first time he came back, she was only trying to cheer him up, but it ended with him tossing the tray out the window and onto the street."

I glanced across the room at Sherlock who was standing between John and Mycroft, the three of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, even if you could almost see the tension that stood between Sherlock and his brother.

"Is that so?" I asked, smiling to myself. "It did shut him up…for a minute. It seems like that was so long ago," I sighed watching the legendary pair of men from across the room.

"I bet never in your right mind did you think you'd end up here," Hannah said.

I put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her shining hazel eyes as a devious smirk found it's way onto my face.

"Come on now, we both know my mind has never been right," I said, giving her a wink. "Now, if you don't mind, I hear a bed and a fluffy pink pig calling my name." I gave her a hug and told her to enjoy her getaway with John, then crossed the room full of mingling and drunken guests, on a mission to steal away my dear detective. I stopped in front of John, whose cheeks were flushed and the smell of alcohol was still fresh on his breath.

"Samantha my dear!" he exclaimed, opening up his arms to me. "I have you to thank for this glorious day you know! Without you, I'd have never met my darling little Hannah." He pulled me into a firm hug.

"And I'm grateful that Holmes has found you as well," he whispered into my ear before letting me out of his hold.

"You're a good man, John Watson; I wish you two the best of luck."

"And the same to you Ms. Parker, don't let him drive you mad," John said half jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

"It's a little late for that," I chuckled, earning a wide cheshire like grin from Sherlock.

"Excuse me gentlemen," John said nodding to Sherlock and Mycroft. "I must now go and find my new bride."

Sherlock stepped in front of me, locking his dark eyes onto mine and smiled softly.

"We will leave for your home in the morning Mycroft," he said, not moving his eyes from mine as he spoke. "The day after the wedding just as I promised you."

"We?" Mycroft asked disconcertingly.

"Yes, we," I answered for him, shifting my eyes to his brothers direction. "That won't be a problem now will it Mr. Holmes?" I asked with a smirk.

"Of course not," Mycroft said. "I just never imagined Sherlock would agree to let someone other than Watson to assist him, let alone a woman."

"Hmm, it would seem dear brother, that your imagination has proved you wrong," Sherlock replied, offering his arm to me. "It's getting rather late dear, shall we leave?" He asked as my arm slid around his and he placed his hand over mine.

"Mmmm, I thought you'd never ask," I smiled tightening my grip affectionately.

"Then until tomorrow Mycroft," Sherlock said nodding to his brother before brushing past him, out of the church.

* * *

I was quick to get out of that dress and into some normal clothes, making myself comfortable beneath the covers. Sherlock made himself busy tinkering with various items spread across his desk while puffing on his pipe, filling the room with the familiar sweet scent of tobacco. It didn't take long before I drifted off to sleep; I know now that I made the right decision. I belonged by his side no matter what the time or place was, it just took longer than it should have to make up my mind.

Something was making my eyes flutter open, something soft and soothing calling me out of bed.

Music.

Hauntingly sweet music was floating up the stairs and into the room; the harmonic tone was pure perfection being drawn across the strings and now, had my full attention. The door was slightly open and the air chilly when I crossed the room and slipped on Sherlock's tattered robe and crept down the stairs into the main sitting room. There he stood, next to the window with his suspenders hanging off his sides; violin in place, oblivious to the world around him. He looked totally relaxed as he moved the bow with such care and precision, relaxed, vulnerable, beautiful even, as the music took on a life of its own. I stood in the doorway and watched in awe; I knew he could play, but knowing and witnessing are two very different things, it was a sight I would replay in my mind over and over again, for years to come. The sheer beauty of the combination of organized chaos and complete control over the instrument tucked under chin was enough to make me want him even more. His motions came to a stop and he turned to set the violin in the chair; noticing my figure propped up against the door frame.

"I didn't mean to wake you Samantha," Sherlock said softly as I made my way across the room.

"Moonlight Sonata," I whispered. "It was beautiful Sherlock, and one of my favorites. Did you know that? Gram had piles of classical records in the house growing up; I used to put them on to fall asleep." I stopped in front of him and took his hands, my own fingers running over his callused ones before gently kissing the tips.

"It reminded me of you," he whispered, moving his hands from my lips and into my hair and resting his head in the crook of my neck, his warm mouth caressing my cool skin.

"Mysterious, alluring, exquisite," Sherlock murmured against my skin, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses up my neck before finding my lips. I stifled a moan as he nipped at my bottom lip, his tongue begging for entrance. My hands fisted in his shirt before running them up his chest and into his hair, getting lost in his dark waves. His hands trailed down my back and rested on my hips, grasping them firmly as he lifted me off the floor causing my legs to wrap around him. Sherlock effortlessly carried me up the stairs, his mouth hardly ever moving away from my body. I pushed the door closed once we entered the room; he gently set me down to maneuver through the maze of scattered books and furniture. I let the robe fall to the floor as I approached the bed, turning to him and slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, allowing my hands to roam freely over his warm skin. His hands moved just a freely, sweeping under my shirt and swiftly pulling it over my head, taking a step closer causing me to back up onto the bed. He crawled over me, dropping kisses onto my bruised abdomen as his hand found it's way under the waistband of my pants, slowly sliding them down and off onto the floor, adding his own pants into the growing pile of clothes. Sherlock gently guided himself into me, holding his weight as he claimed my lips with his own, groaning into my mouth as we moved together as one, releasing simultaneously as we both were pushed over the edge of ecstasy. There was no need to re-stoke the fire that night; the heat radiating off our bodies as we curled into each other, Sherlock's arm protectively draped over my waist and his face buried in my neck.

The snow glistened in the moonlight as it drifted down past the window, I had no idea of what was in store for us beyond Mycroft's hedges and at the moment I didn't care. All that mattered to me was this moment of undying bliss, and the man that was sleeping softly at my side.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, I said I'd update by Christmas...but Epic Mickey got in the way of that...but hey I'm only a few days late, and I gave you guys some sweet lemonade! Hope everyone had a fabulous holiday, I sure did! And I hope you enjoyed the update.**

**-Shelly**


	5. Trust and Weakness

**Trust and Weakness**

My body shivered slightly when the sun woke me the next morning; the fire had gone out long ago and while our bodies were still warm beneath the covers, my head was not. Gingerly, I lifted Sherlock's arm from around my middle, causing him to grumble and turn over, still fast asleep.

After relighting the fireplace, I made my way down the seventeen steps and around the corner into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets to see if Mrs. Hudson had the means lying around to make him some cranberry muffins before we left. I managed to find the basics, along with something that resembled a muffin pan, and was doubtfully eyeing the black wood stove that lined the kitchen wall.

"Not quite what you're used to 'eh dearie?" Mrs. Hudson's cheery voice asked as she entered the room, lighting the stove and putting on a pot for tea before taking a seat at the small wooden table in front of me.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not as daft as that man thinks I am," she chuckled. "And it took a while, but I remember when you came knocking on my door years ago, never thought I'd be having a chat with a girl from the future in my kitchen, yet here we are."

She watched me intently as I mixed the dry ingredients together, her worn hands folded and resting on her lap.

"Who said I was from the future?" I asked with a cautious tone. I knew better that to think Sherlock would tell her such a thing, he made it a point to spend as little time as possible with his landlady.

"It tends to get quiet around here when Mr. Holmes and the Doctor are out and about, and Hannah missed you terribly. Didn't quite know what to think at first, her tales of funny motor cars, how Mr. Holmes found your shop and such, thought she may have been mad." Mrs. Hudson smiled and leaned forward in her seat. "But then I remembered when you came looking for him, and how quick Dr. Watson was to leave with you and for such a long period of time. After all the things they have dealt with in the past, I suppose a little time travel shouldn't come as such a surprise to my old eyes."

I pulled the milk, butter and eggs from the oak ice box and added them to my mix, smiling at the image of Hannah sitting around the table sipping tea with Mrs. Hudson, gossiping like a pair of old biddies.

"And I can see why he fancies you dearie," she continued. "A grand mystery all wrapped up in such a pretty package; can't say I miss that Adler woman popping in when ever she liked, never did care much for her."

Apparently Mrs. Hudson liked to talk…a lot; it was amusing actually, listening to her ramble on and on about the many moods of Sherlock Holmes, most of which she chose to avoid like the plague, about his sulking when John left with Mary, she even went as far to admit that she cared deeply for the still sleeping detective, despite his ways, in her eyes he was more of a dysfunctional adopted son rather than someone that rented out her rooms.

"My old mind had never thought of that," she exclaimed when I began to grate up an orange peel and add it to my mix, just before dumping it all into the pan.

"Gives it some pizzazz," I replied with a smile and a wink, sliding them into the oven and taking the kettle from off the stove, taking it upon myself to make the two of us a cup of tea before sitting across from her.

"We could always do with a bit more of that," she chuckled as she pushed her spoon around in circles.

"What about you, Mrs. Hudson? What did you do before Baker Street?" I asked, folding my arms on the table and resting my head on them.

"Me? Why nobody ever asks about me," she said softly, shocked by my silly little question.

"Well I'm asking. There must be some great stories about the great young Mrs. Hudson."

She looked at me with shy smiling eyes and looked around the room as if she were making sure we were alone; scooting her chair closer to me and leaning in across the table.

"I was in the theater you know," she beamed. "Met my Jim there, god rest his soul; said I had one of the finest voices in London. I can't count the amount of times we snuck around our parents just to see each other."

"You're kidding!" I laughed.

"You should have seen the look on my own mother's face when she caught us behind the market one afternoon," she replied while giggling like a teenager. "I rather like it when he plays, takes me back all those years," she said with a content sigh.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmmm, I only wish he'd learn to pick up after himself."

"I've been told that everything is in its proper place," I whispered with a smile.

"Indeed it is madam," Sherlock's disgruntled voice came from the doorway. "Spare me Nanny, and tell me you are not attempting to bake…again."

"Samantha made use of my kitchen herself this morning," Mrs. Hudson replied, standing from her seat and taking her tea with her. "Perhaps if you weren't up all night with that blasted instrument of your's, you would have been awake to know that yourself," she said dryly as she shuffled past him and out of the room.

"Thank god, the last tray I tossed nearly killed a bird," Sherlock muttered, leaning up against the counter.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled softly. "She was only trying to cheer you up, you know," I said in a hushed voice.

"Hmmm, perhaps," he said crossing the room and dropping a kiss on the top of my head. "But we both know it was much more than your baking that I desired," he whispered, squeezing my shoulders gently. I could hear him humming quietly to himself as he made his way back up the stairs; I couldn't help but smile to my self while I sat and drank the last of the tea in my cup.

_Enjoy it while it lasts Samantha _My recently quiet mind spoke up. _You do realize that more than likely everything is about to turn to shit._

"It could turn out to be nothing," I replied.

_But you know it's not. Six girls gone without a trace, where exactly do those hedges lead? He won't think twice about slipping through to find out._

"I know, and neither will I."

_But you have your doubts._

"Yes…and I intend to stick by him, just as I said I would."

_And what happens when you can't find your way back?_

"I will."

_You may not. _

I closed my eyes tightly and pushed my pestering thoughts to the back of my head. If there was a way in there had to be a way out, at least that's what I hoped.

* * *

The ride to Mycroft's was long and quiet; Sherlock's thoughts had him staring blankly out the carriage window as the country side hills rolled by. I on the other hand tried to keep my mind from thinking about the girls Mycroft had lost, the last thing I wanted to do was worry myself into a depressed stupor.

We slowed down; turning onto a long gravel roadway, passing through an area of overhanging trees before entering through a pair of gates. The amount of land alone was breathtaking; private gardens with impressive strands of pink, purple, yellow and almost every color flower you could think of, an orchard, a small gazebo was nestled near the back of the property overlooking a quiet stream. I heard Sherlock give a low mocking chuckle causing me to pull my eyes away from the captivating view to face him.

"Pity; such a charming home being overseen by such a languid man, and now with so little help, it's sure to be overgrown within a month," Sherlock said in a dull tone while his eyes were still looking out the window.

"He hasn't hired any replacements?"

"Quite so, my dear Samantha, and even if he tried I'm sure the remaining staff would be quick to let any potential new comers know about the recent events in the gardens."

The carriage came to a stop in front of an equally impressive brick home, easily large enough to house several families and their children. Large bay windows were spread out along the top two floors, along with a few balconies perfectly placed to capture the entire view of the land. A pair of wooden doors sat beneath an archway, leading into the main entrance of the house; where someone was already waiting for our arrival.

Sherlock stepped out and reached for my hand, linking my arm through his as soon as my feet were on solid ground.

"Welcome to the Holmes Estate darling," Sherlock softly whispered in my ear. "Our host is more than likely to busy taking tea to be bothered by his own brother's arrival."

"Good day to you Mr. Holmes," the older well dressed man said as he scooped up our bags.

"Ah, good to see you Thomas," Sherlock replied. "This is Samantha, I'm sure Mycroft has mentioned her to you."

"Yes, of course sir. Excuse me for saying sir, but Mr. Holmes was, how should I say, bothered by her decision to accompany you," Thomas said shyly, taking a few steps back.

"No worries, Thomas, was it?" I spoke up. "Mr. Holmes doesn't know what to think of me just yet," I said cheerfully.

"Well I certainly don't mind Miss, could always use a fresh pretty face around, if you don't mind me saying so," Thomas smiled. "I'll let Mr. Holmes know you've arrived, and have someone show you to your room."

"I can manage that, Thomas, thank you," Sherlock said. "I'm sure it's the same room I usually stay in when I visit."

"Indeed it is sir."

"Then you go on ahead, I'll get us settled in and then seek out Mycroft shortly."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes," Thomas nodded, taking our bags inside.

"There is something I wish to show you," Sherlock said once Thomas was out of sight.

"Something other than your room I imagine?" I laughed lightly, as he led me up the cherry wood stairs and down one of many hallways, lined with red carpeting and gold swirls, various paintings spread out on the walls every few feet.

"Mmm, but I think you shall enjoy it," Sherlock grinned. "And being as we won't exactly be staying here long, I thought I would leave you with a pleasant thought to get started on." He stopped and pushed open a door decorated with intricate carvings around the frame.

"Might I suggest the seat by the window, I find it to be most relaxing," he said softly, stepping to the side and allowing me to enter first.

My eyes opened wide as a huge smile broke out onto my face. Endless rows of books, from floor to ceiling, with very few gaps between each one; covering the space on the walls as if they were wallpaper. A few feet in I was met by a railing, a railing surrounding the top floor and leaving the middle entirely open. I peeked over the edge and laughed to myself; the bottom half of the room was the same, just as many books, just as many long lost tales to be discovered, and the smell alone was enough to win me over in a second.

"There is a small alcove tucked away in the far right corner, with a stairwell leading downstairs, but that is mostly filled with history and politics. I think you'll be much more entertained upstairs, with the likes of Chaucer, Kipling, and Poe," Sherlock said with smiling eyes, standing with his hands clasped behind his back beside me.

"You do realize how quick you'll loose my attention in here," I smirked.

"Indeed, it is rather easy to do so, my dear. It's one of the few things my brother and I have in common; an eye for literature." Sherlock took a step forward and pressed a chaste kiss to my temple. "Don't get too lost Samantha, Mycroft is sure to come around soon enough," he whispered sweetly into my ear. "Three doors down on the right, that is my usual room, although I'll be back to check in on you in a while."

I nodded, and began my trek around the room, allowing my hand to lazily drag across the brass banister, taking in all the titles at my disposal. It was a full ten minutes before I realized he had already gone. I sighed contently and plucked a well loved leather bound treasure from the shelf, making my way to the seat by the window.

* * *

I was rudely drug from my current fantasy world by a god awful clattering and a distinct odor of tobacco, not the sweet alluring smell I had become so fond of, it was almost foul and exceedingly dull at the same time.

"Come to give me a proper welcome Mr. Holmes," I spoke to the large figure that was sure to be lurking somewhere behind me.

"I see you've already made yourself comfortable Ms. Parker; my brothers doing no doubt. Now tell me, how is it you knew it was I standing behind you and not Sherlock or one of my staff?" Mycroft asked curiosity obvious in his firm tone.

"First off, Sherlock is very good at being light on his feet, and honestly the huge shadow that shaded the light didn't help you either. But the main thing, Mr. Holmes, is that nasty tobacco scent you have flowing out of that pipe set between your lips." I turned in my seat to see Mycroft, with said pipe, in fact, being held tightly in his mouth; his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

"Now my question to you, Mr. Holmes, is why don't you trust me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"And who is it to say I don't?"

"It's implied," I muttered turning back to the window.

"Hmmm, I won't claim to know much of this magical wall my brother kept going on about upon his return, but I refuse to believe it. The last thing my brother needs is another American woman taking him for a ride. Sherlock and I have our differences, but he is my brother, above all things, and the last bit of family I have left." Mycroft kept a stern face and a dry tone as he spoke, and yet his gray eyes were looking at me with sincerity.

"I've seen the way he is with you, Ms. Parker, he looses himself, and that, I fear, just might be his undoing."

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed, taking a moment to dwell on the truth behind Mycroft's words. I single handedly had become the great detectives strength and weakness all in one, and him mine. But what would life with Sherlock Holmes be without a little bit of that extra danger lurking everywhere you went; dull and boring. And let's face it, I was through with that portion of my life.

"I promise you this, Mycroft," I whispered, not seeing the point in keeping formalities between us. "I'm not in any way, shape, or form, taking Sherlock on any sort of _ride_." I got up from the round cushioned chair and walked past him towards the door. "And as for magic," I grinned, slipping my hand inside my pocket and pulling out a simple quarter, flipping it in his direction, watching as he caught it with his pudgy little hands. "Perhaps you should just take a leap of faith." I called, smiling to myself as he looked in wonder at the fresh coin between his fingers, with a date reading 2010.

* * *

**A/N Hey look at that, I managed to update in a week! Sorry for the filler chapter, but I felt Mrs. Hudson needed some love, and Mycroft deserved his little time in the spotlight before we go off to new and...dangerous places. Hope you all had a great New Year, mine was a little too fun and I had a nice headache the day after to show for it. Thanks for all the fantastic reply's and thanks to all the story alerts and favorites. Hope you enjoyed! As always let me know!**

**-Shelly**


	6. A Walk in the Garden

**A Walk In the Garden**

**(Holmes)**

As frustrating as I found Mycroft's company to be, the estate was indeed an ideal place to soothe my constantly churning thoughts. Even in the bleak month of December the property had managed to hold on to a good amount of its greenery and tasteful landscaping. At first glance, one would not believe anything to be amiss on Mycroft's impeccable land, but not I. There was no stopping the slanted smile that pulled at my lips as my eyes fell on the un-kept section of the gardens; the slight overgrowth stating that the area was now being ignored by the people in Mycroft's employ.

I sat, legs folded, in the center of the elaborately carved, imported four poster bed, allowing my eyes to slip closed as I enjoyed the tranquility of my surroundings. The door knob rattled and I heard the door open and close again rather quickly; it was her frustrated sigh followed by the sound of her head making light contact with the door that caused me to chuckle quietly.

"I see Mycroft took the time to seek you out," I said to her, not bothering to open my eyes just yet. "I spoke with him briefly just after I left you; he was less than pleased that you are here. I suppose he thought you

would have changed your mind."

"He still isn't pleased," Samantha's tired voice replied. "But I think I managed to give him a push in the right direction." I listened as she rummaged through her bag; muttering under her breath as she did so. "Shame it wasn't a good shove down the stairs."

I opened my eyes then, trying to hide the amusement in my voice. "What was that Samantha dear?" I asked. Her back was turned to me; hair fell in dark waves down her back, swaying softly as she kept searching through her belongings.

"Nothing, I'm just a little annoyed I suppose. -Ahh there they are." She spun around, making sure whatever it was she found stayed out of my line of sight. "I brought something for you," she said with a sly grin upon her delicate features.

"And what would that be?"

"Oh…I guess you could call it a little taste of home."

"Muffins?" I asked quickly, perhaps a little too quickly.

"No," she laughed. "Between you and Mrs. Hudson, not even a crumb was left." She wandered over to the bed and sat down beside me; placing a familiar blue and white package between the two of us. It was a well welcomed sight indeed; I had gone far too long with out one of those glorious crème filled treats.

"Oreo, Mr. Holmes?" Samantha smirked, peeling back the wrapper and promptly inserting one into her own mouth before pushing the package closer to me.

"I wouldn't want to spoil my supper Ms. Parker," I grinned.

"It will be our little secret," she whispered, taking out another and placing it between my lips as she leaned into me. "Go ahead Sherlock, no one can resist the taste of an Oreo," she said, leaning in closer. Samantha's gray-blue eyes glistened as the corner of her mouth turned up, her dark tresses playfully framing her face. The Oreo in question was not what I was having trouble resisting; the warm body that was inching its way onto my lap was much more appealing. My hands found their way around her and were now stroking up and down her back as her own rested on my chest.

"So enjoy them, before they disappear," she said quietly, placing a chaste kiss on my rough cheek before she backed away, putting a few feet of distance between us. Samantha grinned as folded her legs in front of her, resting her chin in her hand.

"Well if you insist," I agreed with a warm smile tugging at my lips.

We sat in a content silence, watching…no, reading each others every movement; she wouldn't admit it, not in the least, but I knew she was just as eager as I was to get a good look at the overgrown hedges that had drawn in six others already. Yes she would be cautious, yet not enough to hold her back from finding out the truths to the questions at hand. The sun had already begun to set, blanketing the land in a soft orange hue.

"We'll wait until tonight," I said, approaching her from behind as she watched over the gardens with a determined look flickering in her silver eyes. "After everyone settles in for the night. I'll inform Mycroft that he shouldn't expect us to be here in the morning."

"I'm expecting a time difference," she said plainly, her gaze fixated on the grounds below. The few remaining sunbeams bouncing off her still form.

"It is not certain Samantha."

She glared at me with her eyebrows raised and a crooked grin.

"All right," I replied. "There is a good possibility that there will be a differential in time, but there is no way to know exactly."

"Just tell Mycroft we will return when the time is right, whether it be moments or months; he'll understand."

"I have attempted to explain my comings and goings to your home and he had no intentions of believing in such things," I assured her.

"I told you, Sherlock, I gave him a push," she said with amusement. "Trust me he'll understand."

* * *

**(Samantha)**

The only way to describe how dinner was going was like watching a dirty movie with your grandmother. The blanket of silence that had overcome us all was utterly nerve-wracking, even Thomas, who seemed to be one of Mycroft's more cherry workers, had done nothing but murmur uncomfortable formalities.

"Yes Miss, thank you Miss, your welcome Miss." All repeated with his head down and a forced smile on his tired face.

Sherlock and Mycroft did nothing but take turns glaring at each other, silent swearing with their eyes before turning back to their plates. I took turns looking between the pair of them, shaking my head and sighing. Sherlock would occasionally glance my way and open his mouth as if to say something, only to clear his throat and go back to the staring contest with his brother. Mycroft avoided looking my way at any cost; if I so much as asked for the salt shaker poor Thomas would have to deliver to me, despite the fact it was sitting right beside Mycroft's pudgy fingers. Rubbing my temples and pushing the hair out of my face; I stood from my chair and put both hands firmly down on the table.

"How can two men with impossibly active brains be so awkwardly quiet!" That had managed to get their attention. The two of them were now staring right at me, Mycroft's mouth slightly agape and Sherlock with a small smirk smeared over his face.

"And you," I said fixing my look on Mycroft. "What's the matter? Are you afraid now that you realize exactly where I came from? Or do you still refuse to believe even when the proof is right in front of you," I snapped, just a little harsher than I meant to.

"Well then," Mycroft said quietly, using his napkin to wipe his face before looking in Sherlock's direction. "Speaks her mind often doesn't she?"

Sherlock kept his eyes on me and grinned. "Mmm, and I wouldn't have it any other way. What did you tell him, precisely, Samantha?"

"I didn't _tell_ him anything, I simply tossed a little something his way," I said playfully.

"I had thought it to be some sort of trickery," Mycroft muttered, sliding the coin across the table to Sherlock. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

"Ah yes, well…Congratulations, Samantha," Sherlock chuckled, turning it over in his hands. "It would appear that you are the reason that my brother has been rendered speechless." Sherlock handed the quarter back over to Mycroft.

"Mother was right; you do sulk when you discover you were wrong."

"Not now, Sherlock," Mycroft sighed.

"Come now, dear brother, we can't ignore the facts now can we?" Sherlock smirked arching an eyebrow.

Mycroft's face turned a deep shade of tomato red and he stood from his seat, tossing his napkin on his plate. "I'm turning in for he evening," he said matter-of-factly. "Find those girls, Sherlock, I trust you'll have no difficultly doing so." He then turned, quickly on his heel and left us alone.

"Well then darling, I suppose there is no time like the present," Sherlock said, getting up and approaching my side. "Walk with me dear?" he asked, offering his arm to me. "Good evening Thomas, watch after my brother, will you."

"Of course Mr. Holmes. Good luck to you both."

Sherlock nodded and steered me out of the dining room and back up the stairs.

* * *

Once in the room he began gathering up a few items, including his tool kit and riding crop, before pulling on his coat. I made my way to the window; looking over the now darkened property. The moon was full, so we wouldn't have much trouble seeing, much less finding the familiar shimmer we had become well acquainted with in the previous places. Still, I couldn't ignore the underlying worry that constantly stirred in the back of my mind; that pestering voice that spoke up whenever it pleased.

_You're not ready for this Samantha._

I squeezed my eyes shut and let my forehead rest against the cool window, pushing the thoughts deep down inside my mind.

_What are you doing? I'm not going to go away that easily._

I let out a frustrated puff of air and pressed my head harder into the window, bracing the frame with my hands, raking my fingers across the wooden ledge.

"Samantha?" I heard Sherlock's voice call in the distance.

_Isn't this what you've always wanted Samantha? To go on a grand adventure with your childhood hero. What are you afraid of? The time, the place? Being stuck where you don't belong? Or maybe the fact that there is a possibility that those girls are already dead?_

"Stop it," I whispered, feeling a tear creep down my cheek.

"Samantha?" Sherlock's voice called again.

_It could be true Samantha, and if that is the case the two of you could die as well._

"STOP!" I shouted, sliding down the window and into a heap on the floor, pulling my knees tightly to my chest, rocking in place.

"Samantha look at me," Sherlock said, more clearly now, his tone firm and concerned. He placed a hand on my shoulder and shook me lightly; my eyes snapped open at his touch, locking onto his large worry ridden dark eyes. I took a deep breath and wiped my face, giving him a weak smile.

"I'm all right," I said quietly. "I'll be all right." I leaned back and let my head rest on the wall behind me. Sherlock sat down beside me, asking me silent questioning me with his eyes.

"Now you stop," I said, "I'm okay, honest, just an inner argument, that's all."

"You do not have to do this Samantha, you know that." Sherlock pushed the hair from my eyes, letting his thumb trace my jaw line.

"I'm fine, so let's get this show on the road," I said with a weak smile, patting his leg. "Now help me up."

* * *

The air was chilly, though not as cold as it had been the previous nights; the ground and surrounding bushes were already covered in a light blanket of dew that shone in the moonlight. How fun this was going to be, looking for a shimmering bush amongst thousands of shimmering bushes, even if we had a general idea of where to look.

We wandered through the winding gravel pathways, ducking behind various trees, dragging our hands along anything that might have looked suspicious. It wasn't until almost an hour later when Sherlock stopped mid step, crouching down and pulling a handkerchief out from under the bushes. It was tattered and covered in dirt, most likely from one of the earlier disappearances.

"Looks like that's been down there a while," I said as he stood back up.

"Hmm, yes, a few months at least." Sherlock studied the small piece of cloth in his hands, his thumb tracing over the embroidered green letters in the corner. "Who are you M.A, where did you wander off too," Sherlock mumbled, his hands prying apart the tall square cut shrubs in front of us, disappearing into the damp foliage.

"You coming darling?" he asked, his head popping out the middle of the hedge.

_It's now or never Samantha. Or you could always change your mind. _

"Shut up," I whispered. "I'm not letting him go alone." I pushed my way through and was met by a satisfied looking Sherlock on the other side. We were in a small clearing between the shrubs, with hardly any room for the two of us.

"Impressive really," Sherlock said quietly. "I don't think I'll ever tire of seeing such a thing." He ran his hand through the leaves, revealing the diamond like shimmer that lay hidden before us. "Magnificent."

"It sure is," I agreed.

He wasted no time sinking his arm into the crystal shimmer, grinning widely as it sank into a completely different world.

"Sherlock wait," I blurted out, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Wait for what, exactly?" he questioned with raised eyebrows. "The sun to rise? Come now Samantha, I do believe we have waited long enough."

"Okay," I nodded, sucking in my bottom lip. "I suppose you're right." I stepped closer and looped my arm through his. "But we're going to do this together; lord only knows what's on the other side."

My eyes automatically shut half way as the light shone into them; it was daytime, and the weather was warm, possibly late spring.

"HA!" Sherlock cried out, spinning me around. "Would you look at that Samantha!"

The object in question was a large tree, bigger than anything I had ever seen, roots spreading out onto the forest floor in all directions. The trunk alone had to have been at least four feet wide, deep green and yellow leaves clung to it in clumps; most of the branches looked as if they died out long ago.

"A tree, we came out of a damn tree," I scoffed, stepping over the roots and running my hands along its oddly smooth base. "It's so old," I whispered, taken in by its ancient beauty.

"Samantha," Sherlock said attempting to get my attention.

"How long do you think it's been here," I continued, not bothering to look in his direction.

"Samantha!" he tried again, more urgent than before.

"Alas, yet another wench comes forth. Don't let this one escape!" A man's voice yelled from somewhere in the trees.

That managed to get my attention.

I slowly turned to see Sherlock, fully alert, as he scanned the area for any type of movement.

"Samantha?" he whispered, backing up towards me, his hand already secured on his riding crop.

"Run!"

* * *

**A/N: So sorry It took forever, had a BBC Sherlock plot bunny that wouldn't go away, after that things came much easier! I'd say that I'm sorry to leave you with such a cliffie...but I'm not BWAHAHAHAHA. I will, however attempt to get started tomorrow afternoon, the first pieces of the next are pretty much all up in my tired noggin. Anyway...Hope you enjoyed, do let me know will you? I love to hear how your feeling, it makes me a happy girl :D**

**-Shelly**


	7. Broken and Alone

**Broken and Alone**

The movement in the woods was getting closer, the shouting voices louder and Sherlock stood his ground in front of me; prepared to face what or who ever should emerge through the thickness of the trees. His eyes sharply focused as his eyes darted around our surroundings. One hand gently holding me back and the other tightly gripped on his riding crop.

"Go now Samantha! Before it is too late," Sherlock demanded, failing to mask the panic in his voice.

"I'm not leaving you here, Sherlock," I countered. "I told you, we do this together."

"Yes, well, not much good that will do if we are both caught in a place where we clearly do not belong and where Mycroft's house maids have obviously had some sort of connection to," he argued.

I managed to catch a few glimpses of men between the gaps of the trees and bushes; the sun reflecting off some of the weapons they carried, only fueling my worry.

"Come hither fair mistress!" A middle aged man dressed in tight fitting pants, dark brown boots, and a long blue top came bounding up to us on a jet black horse, extending his hand out to me.

"Quickly, I can grant thee safe keeping, but we must depart now!"

"Safe keeping from what?" I cried. "I'm not going anywhere!"

Sherlock faced the man on horse back, who was looking more and more like some twisted version of Robin Hood, only in blue not green and a dagger strapped to his belt. He exchanged looks between me and this new stranger who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"You've seen something like this before, have you not?" Sherlock asked him.

"Aye sir and it shall not end well if we do not part soon."

"And you can assure her safety?"

"Verily," the man replied.

Sherlock turned to me and grabbed hold of my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes with an insane amount of sorrow and regret.

"You must go Samantha," he whispered, touching his forehead to mine.

I shook my head in refusal.

"Now is not the time to be stubborn!" he insisted, pressing harder against me. "I'll be along shortly darling, but you must leave."

"They are nearly here, come mistress!" the man pleaded.

I dug my heels further into the dirt and stood my ground. "No," I said firmly.

Sherlock sighed and pressed a hurried kiss on my cheek.

"I'm deeply sorry Samantha."

Before I had anytime to react, he had lifted me up and tossed over the back of the man's horse. The two of them exchanged nods before Sherlock's sad eyes met mine once more as the horse took off towards the opposite side of the surrounding woods.

"HOLMES!" I shouted, "Damn you Holmes!" I began to swat hopelessly at the rider's legs. "Take me back you bastard! You can't just leave him there!"

"I regret to say that there is nothing we can do at the present time," he answered, keeping his eyes straight ahead as we rode.

I looked back only to see a group of at least ten men surrounding Sherlock with their clubs and various forms of daggers and what looked like battle axes. He was light on his feet, thank god for that, but outnumbered nonetheless. While he managed to doge many strikes in his direction and making his fair share of whacks from his riding crop; it didn't stop them from ultimately closing in on him. My eyes tearing up at the sounds of his painful cries as one of their clubs made contact with his body.

"Please," I begged. "We have to go back!"

"Nay," he answered, slipping between the trees and down a small slope.

I waited until we had reached a somewhat clear area and ignoring the god awful pain in my ribs, proceeded to roll my self off the horse and onto the ground. Pushing my self up, I attempted to make a run for it; attempted as in failed miserably thanks to the roots, landing me face down in a pile of dirt. I was met eye level with a pair of familiar brown boots and an outstretched hand.

"They will not take his life," the man said softly as he helped me to my feet. "We must continue on if thou wish to help him _and _save thyself."

"Help him how?"

"You must have faith in me mistress, and we must keep going." He whistled for his horse and gave me a weak smile, nodding as he clasped his hands together and lowered them into a makeshift stirrup. Reluctantly I placed my foot on top and used his shoulder for a little bit of extra boost while climbing back onto his dark companion. He got on behind me and wasted no time in picking up speed as we flew through the maze of trees and effortlessly sailed over fallen tree trunks.

* * *

We came to a stop at a farm house; land as far as the eye could see, all coated in a plush carpet of bright green grass. Sheep and cows grazed freely in the fields and the soft calls of chickens could be heard coming from the hen house. There was a large barn adjacent to a good sized home and two other smaller buildings; all of them aged and hand built with tedious care. The man guided his horse into the barn and into an empty stable and filled his food bucket with a fresh batch of feed before patting the side of its neck.

"Rest now Linota, thy have done well today," the man whispered affectionately.

He then picked up a bucket and filled it with the nearby pump and motioned to me with his head to follow him into the house. Inside there was a woman rocking in a chair next to the fire and an elderly man pacing the floor.

"No good shall come of this, bringing yet another wench into this home," the elderly man scolded my protector.

"Would thou rather I left her to those wretched heathens?"

"She will be no trouble to us father," the woman spoke up in a sweet and gentle voice.

"Many thanks to thee, Clarice," my guardian said.

He led me to a wooden bench seat; setting the bucket of water down on the floor he gently began to wash the dirt and grime away from the scrapes that lined my arms.

"I am Addison and this is my wife Clarice," he said nodding to the woman in the chair. "What, pray tell, might your name be."

"Samantha."

"And the one we left behind?"

"His…" I took a deep breath and pushed the last images I had of him out of my head. "His name is Sherlock," I whispered, stinging tears threatening to fall down my cheeks.

"Thou are not the first maiden to come upon us in such strange circumstances, but this much thy has already known."

I nodded and stared blankly into the fire, trying not to loose what little patience I had left. I had been forced to leave him behind to face lord only knows what, and there was nothing I could do about it. This man, Addison, may have taken me to a safe place, but at what cost? To make it this far and than loose the one person I had given up everything for, the one man that could manage to infuriate me and warm my soul at the same time. Now I was stuck in some whacked out era alone.

Broken and alone.

"All is not lost, Samantha," Addison said softly.

"You told me they wouldn't kill him."

"Aye."

"Then what _will _they do?" I asked, my fists clenched tightly in my khakis. "AND HOW THE HELL DO I GET HIM BACK!" I shouted, roughly pushing myself to my feet, kicking over the water in the process.

"Now, now," Addison's wife Clarice said placing her hands on my shoulders. "Calm thyself, Samantha, as my good husband has said, this is not the first time such events have come to pass."

"The other girls were alone, were they not?" I shortly asked.

"Aye," Addison replied, "But as for the one that accompanied thee, he shall be taken into the town and sold for slavery."

"WHAT?"

"Do not fret, Samantha; a farmer requires many farm hands, I oft frequent the marketplace, on the morrow, we shall go and seek him out for purchase."

"And what happens if he isn't there?"

"He appeared to be far too rambunctious for anyone to keep up after," Addison smirked. "All will fair well."

Addison stood and approached his wife, softly pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Clarice, my love, will thou kindly show our guest to her quarters whilst I cleanse myself."

Clarice nodded with a smile before turning her eyes on me. "This way Samantha," she said, her arm making a sweeping motion toward the stairs.

* * *

The room was simple; a bed along with a small desk, vanity, and a dresser, precariously placed in just the right places to make most of the space being used. She brought me something to sleep in while my clothes were washed and sent me up a tray of food when I refused to come down and eat. I wasn't hungry anyhow, not for food anyway, the only hunger I had was for the sun to set and rise again so we could find Sherlock and get him out of the marketplace before someone else put a price on his dark disheveled head. So I sat, stoic, on the stiff mattress, dressed in the simple yellow dressing gown that was provided for me, the food tray untouched and my thoughts terrorizing my mind.

_Don't say I didn't warn you Samantha. It's only natural for something to go wrong when it comes to you. Combine that with Sherlock Holmes and you have a full fledged shit storm on your hands._

"We will get him back tomorrow, find the girls and go home; despite this annoying setback," I answered my pestering thoughts.

_Annoying setback,_ my inner voice mocked. _More like a total fuck up, but then again, you are used to that aren't you. And whose home will you be returning to exactly. The dreary skied Victorian London, or the lonesome bakery, smack dab in the middle of tourist-ville._

"Where ever he'd rather be; that much I have already decided."

_Where are we anyway? Maid Marian down there seemed less than surprised at your arrival._

"She said I wasn't the first," I whispered. "So who was? And where are they now?"

_Exactly; she must be lurking around this place somewhere…or dead._

"Always the pessimist," I sighed rubbing my scalp.

_Your thoughts Samantha, I only make them a little more noticeable._

"I don't recall asking for any such thing."

_Don't bother denying the fact that you don't enjoy my company. In fact you crave that extra push I give you from time to time._

"Go away," I demanded, squeezing my eyes shut and tugging at my hair.

_Well since you asked so nicely,_ my brain scoffed. _I'll be back soon enough; when you need me most._

"How fortunate for me," I murmured, blowing the hair from my face and pulling my knees to my chest.

* * *

The sun had finally decided to set and calm a small amount of my emotional discomfort. I was, however, growing restless from staying cooped up in one spot for the last several hours, even if it was by my own choice. Slipping on my shoes; I crept down the stairs of the now silent house and wandered my way out into the barn.

The horse Addison had called Linota blew out a short puff of air when I slid the door closed behind me. I pushed a stool over to her stall and stepped up to run my hand over her silken coat, her large brown eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into my touch as I pet her.

"I suppose I should thank you," I chuckled softly. "Who knows what would have happened to me if your owner hadn't been around."

She gave her tail a swish and pushed into my hand some more as if she were grateful for my thanks. The large dark animal seemed to be calming my nerves; every once and a while she would push her nose up under my hand and force it over her head where I would give her a quick scratch behind the ear before giving her a friendly pat. I stayed there with her for a while, enjoying the relaxation she was giving me with each pass I made over her coat. A rustling on the outside of the barn caused both of us to go still and focus our attention on the heavy door. Slowly; it slid open revealing a girl slightly smaller than me and dressed in a similar night gown, only pale pink in color.

"Oh, so sorry Miss," she quickly apologized, taking a step backwards. "I didn't think anyone would be out here this late."

She took a few steps closer when I didn't reply. Her long blonde hair was swept to the side in a braid and she looked at me with large kind green eyes.

"Are you alright then Miss?" she asked smiling softly. "Can I get you anything?"

I gave a short laugh and shook my head; relieved to hear some form of familiar speech. Looks like I had found number one out of six, and she was very much alive.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Mary," she replied, narrowing her eyes at me in curiosity. "Mary Allerdice. And who might you be?"

"Fantastic!" I grinned, thinking about the M.A embroidered handkerchief Sherlock currently had stuffed into his pocket.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" she demanded, taking a step closer. "Did…did you…did you…oh never mind," she sighed, "It's not likely anyhow."

"What's not?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Falling into a bush and coming out of a tree straight into the thirteenth century?"

"Fifteenth," she countered. "1426 to be exact." Mary covered her face with both her hands and started to laugh. "So it's true then? You _are _the same as me!"

"Not exactly."

"Well besides the obvious fact that you're American."

"And from 2010," I mumbled.

"You're from the future!"

"So are you, in case you've forgotten."

"Well yes, but you even more so," she exclaimed with wide eyes. "How did that happen, are there more of them, is there a way to get back?"

"I don't know. First I have to get Sherlock bac-"

"Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes!" Mary snorted. "Well glad to see Mr. Holmes still runs off to his brother if he can't do it himself. But if you are from that far in the future how are you acquainted with Mr. Holmes?"

"Never mind that now," I said shaking my head. "What about the other girls? Where are they?"

"Haven't a clue. When I came out these men were after me, but then Mr. Addison found me and brought me here. There were three more after me, but he didn't get to them in time."

"So they ended up in the marketplace right?" I asked.

"No," she whispered, sadly shaking her head. "They're gone; we don't know what happened to them." Tears were now falling down Mary's face. "Mr. Addison fears the worst for them, said that no good will come to a bunch of women claiming to be from the future."

"We'll find them all right," I said, placing my hand on her arm in an attempt to comfort her. "We're going to get Sherlock back, find the rest of the girls, and get you home."

"But how?" she asked, brushing away her tears.

"Afraid I'll have to get back to you on that part." I said with a chuckle and a sideways grin.

Mary smiled through her glossy green eyes and without warning pulled me into a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I knew if I waited long enough help would come. Thank you so much." She pulled back and turned to leave the barn. "I should get back, in case someone needs something."

"Mary?" I called after her. "Samantha, my name is Samantha; sorry I never answered you before."

"Goodnight then, Samantha," she said softly before sliding the barn door closed.

* * *

**A/N: My good god this chapter kicked my ass! God how I would kill for a medieval translator...I've searched and searched and have come to the conclusion that one does not exist. But I finished it nonetheless, and I think it turned out all right. Hope you enjoyed, as usual let me know and whatnot.**

**-Shelly**


	8. Off the Beaten Path

**Off the Beaten Path**

**(Holmes)**

"_HOLMES!," Samantha's pained voice cried out. "Damn you Holmes!" _

_I did what I could to fight them off, but my small riding crop was no match for the weapons they wielded. I tried anyhow, not wanting to go down without a fight. In the end it was her voice that hurt me most; her once soft sweet tone was long gone and was now replaced by shouts of hurt and betrayal. I had no choice in the matter, she would not have been safe if she had remained by my side, so I let her go, not knowing how or when I would see her again, and it was with a heavy heart that I fought against an impossible number; my broken Samantha's cries the last thing I heard before my world went black._

_

* * *

_

My body was immensely sore and the sudden jerk it gave when I awoke did not help the situation any. With my hands bound behind my back and my face pressed into the damp dirt ground, trapped in the confines of a six foot holding cell of some sort. Dried blood prevented me from opening my left eye, my leg felt as if it were on fire and if I hadn't known any better I would have sworn there was something in my head beating away at my skull.

"Art thou able to stand?" a rugged male voice asked from behind me.

I turned to face the bars; a torch on the wall dimly lit the corridor beyond my cell, where I could vaguely make out the shape of a man.

"Where am I?"

"Stand," the voice commanded.

"Where am I?" I repeated.

"Stand!" he yelled, cracking a whip along the bars.

With a groan I managed to get onto my knees, yet when I attempted to push myself any further a pain shot up the length of my leg and I collapsed back down into the foul dirt.

"I can not," I breathed out.

"Than thou shall remain here for the time being. No money is to be made if thou can not stand."

"What money? What is this place? What do you plan to do to me?" I asked, tenderly propping myself up against the stone wall.

"There are far too many questions in thee. It would be best to keep thy lips closed," the man snarled, wrapping the length of the whip around his hand and turning to leave, taking the torch with him.

With the darkness came rats and tortured moans from the surrounding cells; both undoubtedly brought on by the constant stench of excrement and death. From what I could tell the cells that were near to me were empty; of course that might not have been the case a few days ago, my mind cringed at the thought of the events that might have taken place in such a dismal place. There was little chance of me escaping, not with an injury and my inability to play by the rules. Even still my thoughts ended just as they began; with Samantha. I knew she was safe and that brought a faint amount of calmness to my inner self. But I was no good to anybody here, not to her or Mycroft's house keepers. What horrific predicament had I managed to put myself in? And the more important question was how in God's name was I going to get myself out? I was helpless yet again, in a strange place, with little to no hope of seeing the light of day again.

* * *

**(Samantha)**

Sleeping was not an option; not with my restless mind running rampid with thoughts about finding Sherlock and figuring out what happened to the other girls. The stiffness of the bed wasn't helping things. Each toss and turn was followed by a sharp frustrated puff of air and my fingers rubbing circles into my temples.

_Oh yes, because that is clearly helping._ My mind scoffed as I dug my fingertips into my head once more.

"Oh no," I groaned, rolling over onto my stomach and clamping my hands down over my ears.

_Sorry Samantha, but that isn't going to help either. Can't cover up a noise that is coming from inside of your own head, now can you? _

"Not now," I pleaded. "For the love of god just let me sleep." But no; my mind had no intentions of letting me sleep. It wanted to have seemingly pointless conversations and belittle me as it usually did.

_We both know you won't sleep until you see your precious detective is in one piece. _

"Addison said they wouldn't kill him."

_Maybe not kill, but you heard those screams Samantha. Sounded awfully painful if you ask me._

"Well I didn't ask you, so just leave me be," I commanded, rolling onto my back and closing my eyes.

_It'd be a shame for you to find him with a misplaced bone or two. _My mind continued on. _And it is not like you can whisk him away to the emergency room. Besides it's your fault. They were after you in the first place. If you hadn't tagged along he would be fine and dandy. Scooping up those lost girls in no time._

"Feel free to shut up anytime now."

_If you insist. _

Everything went quiet then. The only sound being the squeaking of the tree branches as they dragged across the window glass. The moon was as full here as it was just before we stepped through the bushes, and despite the light colored drapes it cast an eerie glow throughout the room. Removing the flat pillow from behind my head and placing it over my face. Doing my best to block out the moon light and force my body into some form of rest. But it wouldn't happen. There was too much worry and guilt brewing inside of me, boiling into a depressed emotional stew. Slowly trickling out in the form of cold tears trailing down my hot cheeks.

When the sun rose, so did I. Changing from my nightgown back into my own pants and short sleeved button down before heading downstairs. By the looks of it the house was primarily empty. Clarice and Mary sat opposite each other at a small table talking excitedly in hushed voices, clamping their hands over their mouths in failed attempts to quiet their snickering.

"Swapping dirty jokes ladies?" I asked dryly, pulling out a chair for myself.

"My deepest apologies Samantha," Clarice said softly. "Did we awaken thee?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping well anyway. Where is Addison? I assumed he would want to leave sometime in the morning."

Clarice and Mary exchanged looks.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My good husband-"

"Let me Clarice," Mary interrupted, taking a deep breath and looking my way. "Addison thought it would be better to go himself. He didn't want to risk the chance of the two of you causing a scene."

"Why on earth would I do something as stupid as that?" I asked rashly, pushing my hands deep into my curls and tugging at my hair in frustration.

"Not so much you," she said with a grimace. "Mr. Holmes on the other hand does have his moments, now doesn't he? Addison said the two of you seemed to be _involved_, and as unlikely as I find that to be, his reaction to seeing you may be a bit…drastic."

"And you think he would do something to ruin his chances of getting out of where ever he is!" I said through gritted teeth, letting my fist land loudly on the table top. The two of them jumped in their seats.

"I'm sorry Miss, I just thought it would be best," Mary replied sheepishly.

"Oh so it was your fault? You planted that little seed into Addison's medieval little head?"

Clarice wrinkled her brow, looking confused and glanced between Mary and myself. Slouching in my chair, I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling. Taking a few deep breaths of my own, I closed my eyes and rubbed circles into my temples with my fingers.

"Look, I'm sorry," I sighed. "I just…I just wanted to be there."

* * *

The rest of the morning was spent in silence. I sat on the well worn brown couch with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. Every so often Clarice would whisper something to Mary, who would glance at me and just shake her head before puttering around. Keeping herself busy by tidying up the house. I heard the door creak open and my head shot up to see Addison standing in the doorway. Alone.

His eyes met mine and he did his best to give me an apologetic smile while he sat beside me on the couch.

"Samantha-"

"Where is he Addison?" I demanded, looking at him through glossy gray eyes.

"Perchance we shall have better luck on the marrow," Addison sighed, patting my shoulder gently.

"He wasn't there?"

"Nay milady."

I swallowed the building lump in my throat and did my best to ignore the churning in my gut.

"Then where is he? You said he would be at the market! You said it everything would be okay!" I stammered out, brushing back stray tears. "Why wasn't he there Addison? Why?" I asked, frantically searching his sorrowful eyes for an answer.

"I know not where they have him," Addison glumly replied, studying the grooves in the wooden floor boards.

"Tomorrow morning," I said flatly, standing from the couch and heading towards the staircase. "We will look again tomorrow morning. And I'm coming with you."

"As you wish, Samantha," he said softly while nodding. "Surely thou will be back down for supper?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly; dragging myself up the stairs. The chances that I would be down to eat were slim. My appetite had vanished and was replaced with woeful determination to find Sherlock before someone else did.

* * *

**(Holmes)**

I jolted upright off the damp ground as cold water was tossed onto my aching body. The man with the whip from the night before stood outside the bars, with a bucket in his hand. He reached for a nearby chair and spun it backwards, resting his arms across the backing as he eyed me with a sinister expression. I did my best to wipe my face on my shoulder, which proved to be most difficult with my hands still bound behind my back. The sun crept through the small gap at the top of my cell, dirt trickling through as people passed on the noisy street above.

"Art thou able to stand?" The whip man asked me, just as he did yesterday. The pain in my leg was still excruciating; however I wasn't doing myself any good festering in my underground cage. With great care and attempting to not let the pain show in my features, I pressed my side into the cool stone wall and began to push my self slowly onto my feet. With a few groans and grunts I was standing on my own; sending a nod in my guard's direction.

"Now walk," he demanded.

I let my uninjured right leg take most of the weight as I gingerly limped around my confines. When I reached the other side I fell into the wall with a heavy sigh, reflexively grabbing hold of my injury. I could see now the deep gash that ran up my left calf as well as some deep bruising and swelling on the top of the lower portion of my leg.

"We shall try once more on the marrow. If thou art still having difficulties we shall send you elsewhere," The whip man said, his features still on the menacing side.

"Where am I?" I asked with ragged breath.

"East WhickShire."

"And what do you want with me?"

"It is not I thou should be worrying thyself with." His turned his lip up into an evil grin. "Walk by the time the sun arises on the morrow, or I shall turn you over to the Ealdorman." He stood and gave the chair a push with his soiled boot; sending it sliding along the floor and hitting a far wall.

Although the gap was small, the sun pushing through the space was sweltering. It must have been enough to make a man delirious, because as the hours wore on I swore I saw a woman's figure standing on the other side of the iron bars. She knelt down and sticking her thin arms between the spaces she offered a bowl to me.

"I have brought thee some water," she said with a meek voice. She smiled gently and set the bowl down on the dirt floor. I had thought she had gone, but the familiar scraping of the chair legs told me otherwise. She sat with her hands folded in her lap and nodded toward the bowl.

"If thou wishes to remain healthy thou should drink."

Hesitantly, I made my way through the grime and dirt, closer to the bowl, yet keeping my distance.

"I am Anastasia, the Ealdorman's daughter. Verily, he would disapprove of my presence here. I am not one to let a man die of thirst; no matter the circumstance. I am regretful for the way Rowan has treated thee, as well for his men. Ahh how I wish my dear father would go about things in a different manner, but nay, it is the profit that drives all his decisions. Alas! Here I am prating to a man whom I have n'er even met before. Drink now, so I can be on my way." She waved her hand in the direction of the bowl.

The chances of it being poison were small. After all, I do believe I would certainly be worth more money alive than dead. I inched my way closer to her still, until I was able to rest my head in the corner of the cell.

"Go on then," she said, her voice kind and gentle.

"It proves to be difficult madam, with my hands tied securely behind my body," I replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Aye, I suppose that to be true."

She got up from the chair and knelt down beside the bars, dirtying the bottom of her pale blue dress. Picking up the bowl and raising it to my mouth. The water was stale and hardly clean, but that made no difference. I eagerly drank in what my body had been deprived of, coughing some of it back up when I took it in too quickly.

"Thank you," I said between breaths, leaning my head back against the now hot stone.

"Rest now," she said, taking the hem of her dress and wiping away some of the sweat and grime from my face. "I suggest saving thy strength. Thou must walk on the morrow if thou wishes to leave this place." Anastasia took the bowl and placed the chair back where she had found it; then with another soft smile she left me to sit in solitude.

* * *

**(Samantha)**

I had made it a point to get up early. All those years of getting up before the sun rose to bake had me trained to be my own personal alarm clock. Not that I slept much anyway. The day as well as the night had passed much like the previous one. Even after a walk out to the barn, time still dragged on, slower than molasses. I was sitting alone in the dimly lit living room when Addison came tip-toeing down the stairs. He stopped mid step as he saw me leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Good morrow, Samantha," he greeted me. "How fair thee this fine day?"

"I'll be better once we get going," I said matter-of-factly.

Addison sighed and walked over to a large pantry just beyond the stairwell. He pulled out a thick roll of dark brown fabric and tossed it my way.

"What's this?" I asked, unraveling the heavy wool that was now in my arms.

"It shall allow you to blend in. It is not common for a farmer to bring a maiden with him to the market. Perchance they will believe thee to be in my employ." Addison packed a small basket with fruit, bread, and a container of water.

"Although we are traveling by wagon, it shall take several hours to arrive. Thou shall remain in the inside portion until we reach the market."

"I understand," I said slipping the cloak over my body. It went down past my toes and scraped along the floor and had a hood that drooped low, leaving just enough room for me to see what was in front of me.

"Let us be on our way then," Addison said, pulling open the door and leading me outside.

* * *

The carriage was pulled by two large horses; one of them I recognized as Linota, the same horse Addison was riding when he scooped me up from the woods and brought me to his home. The inside of the buggy was lined with two bench seats and in the middle Addison had made some type makeshift bed. A handmade wooden table with a thin mattress placed on top. I sat inside battling the heat while Addison sat in front; leading the way as if he had made this trip a thousand times.

I went still when we came to a stop. Straining my ears to listen to our surroundings. It wasn't long before the carriage door was pulled open and Addison was holding his hand out to me.

"Welcome to East WhickShire, Samantha. Many a mongrel reside here, it would be wise for thee to tread these streets with up-most care."

I took his calloused hand and carefully lowered myself down the steps. The sight was nothing like the tranquility of Addison's farm home. The streets were littered with stray animals as well as people. Both of which smelled worse than anything I have ever smelt. As we moved towards the center of things; booths began to emerge. Vendors selling anything from vegetables to bed sheets; all of them shouting out to the nearest buyer. Then came the men. They were either held in stockades or chains on their hands and feet that bound them to large poles. Some would cry out their trades as we walked by; offering their services in exchange for a warm bed and a decent meal. They didn't even seem to want to get paid in a real sense; they just wanted out of the horrid living conditions they were being forced to live in.

We passed one dirty face after another. When one of them got out of hand and tried to break free they were quickly stopped by a large man with an eager whip.

"Weren't ye jus 'ere good fellow?" The man addressed Addison as we got closer to him. His hands caressing the tight leather loop in his hands.

"Aye," Addison replied. "No harm can come of taking a second look."

"And I see thou hast brought another pair of eyes as well."

"The wench works with them more than I. Mayhap she shall have better luck finding me a farm hand," Addison said with a forced smile.

I continued to search through the sea of heads, eagerly looking for that familiar mess of dark curls and scruffy cheeks. Each pair of eyes I fell upon were not the ones I was looking for. All of them full of pain and sorrow, looking desperately to me for salvation. But none of them belonged to the man who clung to my heartstrings.

Seconds away from turning back to Addison so we could move on; a figure sitting all alone caught my attention. Sitting with his back to a post, chains on his legs and his arms and head bolted in a stockade. It was the splash of grey at his temples that drew my eyes to him and then he raised his head and looked at me. My breath hitched in the few moments we made contact. The warmth that I loved was now replaced with worry and pain; and that just made my heart ache even more.

I approached Addison's side and raised my cloaked arm and pointed to the lonely figure so far away from all the others.

"We shall take that one," Addison said firmly. Dropping a sac of coins into the man's hand. The man with the whip laughed and shook his head.

"He was lame not but two days ago. I was all but ready to bring him to the Ealdorman."

"I have no doubt he shall serve me well," Addison insisted.

"Very well then," the man nodded, pulling the set of keys from his belt and walking across the grounds.

"Return to the carriage," Addison said to me when the whip man was out of earshot. "Lock the door from the inside and I shall be there shortly."

"But I-"

"Nay," he interrupted. "The Ealdorman is nothing thou should have to come across. If he is truthfully here, I would rather thou await me in the safeness of my carriage."

I looked at him long and hard before finally nodding my head in bitter agreement.

"Go now, I shall come shortly."

* * *

I sat on the edge of the make shift bed with my legs crossed and my foot tapping restlessly. It was taking him longer than I expected it would and with each passing second I only grew more worried.

_Who and what is an Ealdorman? _My mind wondered as I anxiously waited for the buggy door to fly open.

"Beats me."

_Obviously someone with some sort of authority. As well as someone bad enough to scare off Addison. Perhaps he is the Sherriff of Nottingham to your Robin Hood. _My mind suggested.

"Or Prince John," I replied.

_A pox on the phony King of England! _My mind sang, making me smile at the memory of one of my favorite childhood movies.

A light knocking came from the door.

"All is well," Addison's muffled voice called out.

I unlatched the door and quickly pushed it open. Propped up gently along Addison's side was Sherlock's bruised and dirtied body.

"Aid me in getting him inside," Addison demanded.

I pushed Sherlock's other arm up over my shoulder and helped Addison bring him into the coach and lie him on the bed. Sherlock was hardly conscious; his breathing ragged, his face covered in dirt, and a few nasty looking cuts down on his leg. Addison handed me a bowl of water and a small cloth.

"It is not much, but it shall do until we reach the farm," he said, wiping his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. "We shall be going now."

Dipping the fabric in the cool water, I gently did my best to get the dried blood and other bits of I don't even want to know what off of his skin. He flinched under my touch; eyes snapping open and his hand quickly fastening on to my wrist. Sherlock loosened his hold once and smiled weakly when his eyes found mine.

"Glad to see some things never change," I whispered, using my free hand to push his damp hair away from his forehead. Sherlock reached up and pushed the hood from my head, trailing his fingers down my cheeks and tucking a few stray hairs behind my ear. I failed at an attempt to blink back tears as they crept out from the corners of my eyes.

"Come now Samantha dear, I'll be right as rain in no time at all," Sherlock said, brushing my tears away with his thumb.

"I thought I'd lost you," I said after taking a deep shaking breath. "When Addison said you weren't there was almost sure you were gone."

"Nonsense," he said taking my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Moriarty himself couldn't even stop me, much less a man with a whip."

I shook my head and lightly chuckled before dipping the cloth back into the bowl and continuing to clean him up. "Go to sleep Holmes. You need to rest so we can do what we came here to do."

"With Pleasure," Sherlock sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward before his eyes slipped closed and his breathing steadied.

* * *

**A/N: Oh sweet lord please oh please don't beat me! I know it has been ages...I was held captive by a very aggressive nook color. I tried to make it a little longer for you to make up for my laziness. Hope you enjoyed! As usual let me know...It makes me happy and makes me want to write quicker XD**

**-Shelly**


	9. Rubbing Salt in the Wounds

**A/N: Sorry for such the long wait, other fandom kept creeping into my brain. Anyway thanks so much for all the fabulous reviews and adds, they really do make my day! This is a little short, but after waiting for so long I figured nobody would mind :D Anyhow I hope you enjoy, as always let me know**

**-Shelly**

* * *

**Rubbing Salt in the Wounds**

Sherlock slept most of the way back. From the looks of things he had taken quite a beating. A wave of guilt washed over me, knowing that I was to blame for his condition. It wasn't an easy task; cleaning the grime away from his body with only a bowl of water and what was now a dirt ridden rag. The gash on his leg had small bits of what looked like rock and possibly some remnants of sticks from the woods. The wound was a good size and under normal circumstances would have definitely needed stitches. But that wasn't likely to happen here. Besides it was far too late for that. I would wait until we reached the farm to clean it out thoroughly; if Addison so much as hit a bump in the road, Sherlock would be hit with a sudden jolt of pain. Hopefully a doctor of some sort would be able to come out and do a much better patch up job than I. Then again, we were smack dab in the middle of nowhere, lost in the fifteenth century. Maybe my little bit of first aid knowledge was enough to spare him from some ridiculous diagnosis. I wouldn't want some doctor that looked like he just walked off a museum set up telling Sherlock he needed some ridiculous procedure done; as in a botched amputation. Now I know I shouldn't think things like that. Who am I to judge? The only thing I had to go on were fairy tales and vague memories of television comedy sketches.

* * *

Groggy still, Sherlock managed to make it up the stairs with Addison there to support most of his weight on the left side. He was now lying in the bed that I had attempted to sleep in the last few days, taking deep ragged breaths and continuing to slip in and out of consciousness.

"I shall call upon Mary to bring thee a basin of water," Addison said softly, resting a hand on my shoulder; clearly noticing the deep lines of worry etched into my forehead.

My eyes wandered back down to the wound on his leg. Remarkably, other than being dirty, it seemed to have escaped infection.

"How about a doctor, Addison? How long would it take for you to get me a doctor? I'd feel better if he had some sort of look over by a professional," I said.

"If you wish it, I shall take thee on the morrow."

"No." I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair, rubbing my scalp. "I don't want to keep moving him. I think it's best to try to keep him comfortable."

Addison nodded. "Perchance I can request a visit from the town physician. Yet he is a man with little time on his hands."

"How long?" I asked.

"Two days time, mayhap three."

_See that Samantha. Seems you know a bit more about your surroundings than you thought. _My mind spoke up in what seemed to be some sort of rare compliment._ Looks like you'll be playing nurse to your beloved detective…good luck with that._ I scoffed, shaking the thought from my head. I should have known better for my twisted thoughts to actually tell me I had done something right for once.

"I suppose that's better than nothing," I said to Addison. "Until then I'm going to need something clean that nasty cut out better."

"I shall have Mary bring thee some vinegar with the water, as well as some new clothing."

"Thank you Addison," I whispered, looking sadly down at Sherlock; whose breathing was finally starting to

normalize. Addison nodded in my direction and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Good god Sherlock, what on earth have they done to you?" I said as I ran the cloth down the scrapes on

his arm. I had managed to get most of his exposed wounds cleaned up; saving the worst for last. It would be

easier to deal with that one while he was awake, or at least I hoped it would be.

"I believe, madam, the proper term would be bludgeoning," came a raspy reply. I looked up to see him

peering at me through half lidded eyes, a weak smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'd ask you how you were feeling, but that would be pointless now wouldn't it."

"Indeed my dear, it would," Sherlock said, groaning as he pulled himself up onto his elbows so he could sit upright.

"I need to clean out that gash," I said with a grimace. "I wanted to wait until you were awake. God knows it's going to be uncomfortable enough, I didn't want it to come as a shock and have you injuring yourself further."

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath; preparing for what was about to come. Propping his leg up above the bowl I poured the vinegar over the width of the cut. Sherlock hissed and tensed the muscle in his leg but other than that did not move. I froze and looked back to him; his lips pressed into a tight thin line and his eyes wide and full of pain.

"I have to get the debris out now. If I don't there is a good chance it will become infected."

He nodded again but said nothing.

Carefully I took the corner of a clean cloth and as gently as possible ran it along the inside of the gash. His leg would tense each time I paused to work out a small piece of rock or stick, but aside form the occasional his hiss he kept himself quiet. I rinsed it with the vinegar once more before wrapping it up with a fresh bandage.

"It needed stitches," I said quietly when I was finished, wiping my own hands clean. "It's far too late for that now, it'll scar." I sighed and replaced the bowl under his leg with a few pillows, shaking my head at the yellow and purple bruising on the top of his leg. "As far as I can tell you've bruised the bone. Keep off of it for a few days all right?"

"Am I to call you Nanny now as well dear?" Sherlock quipped. He was fully alert now; who wouldn't be after the hell I just put him through. His look softened as he read my features. It was pointless trying to hide anything from him now, there was no need be throwing him into a frustrated mood on top of everything else.

"It is not as bad as it seems, Samantha," he said, placing his hand over mine.

"You shouldn't have done it Sherlock."

"Done what, princely darling?"

"Don't toy with me Holmes," I coolly replied.

"What was I to do then? Let them drag you off with me as well? That wouldn't have done much good, would it?" he snapped. So much for keeping him out of a pissy mood.

"Yes as a matter of fact you should have!" I shot back, my voice just as stern. "At least then we would have some idea of where they were keeping the girls."

"And if they're dead? Than what Samantha? They could have killed you on the spot, without a second thought."

"But you don't know that," I argued, my knuckles white from gripping the side of the bed.

"Well I sure as hell wasn't about to find out!" he yelled. "We knew nothing of where we were or who those people were, nothing at all. I was not going to risk loosing you!"

"So you risked yourself? Send me off with some stranger?"

"Obviously you were in good hands," he said through gritted teeth.

"You didn't know that at the time. He could have been just as eager to get a hold of me as the others."

"Come now Samantha, you know perfectly well I was able to deduce what type of man he was before I hoisted you on back of that horse."

"Oh yes, how could I forget that I was in the presence of the great Sherlock Holmes. Tell me detective, what am I thinking right now?" I narrowed my eyes and tapped the side of my head. Sherlock sat there glaring at me through stormy dark eyes, saying nothing.

"Of course, now you go all quiet." I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Picking up the used rags and placing them in the now pink and brown stained water I turned to leave. I was stopped by his hand firmly grasping my wrist and tugging slightly.

"Samantha," he said with a much calmer tone.

I didn't budge. I stood still with my arm being held behind me as my eyes stayed glued to the door.

"Samantha, I really do not want to do this. As becoming as anger is on you I hate to be the cause." Sherlock gave my arm a few more pulls. "I want you to listen to me Samantha, please."

Sighing I placed the bowl back on the table and turned to face him.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Now, what you are thinking darling is irreverent-"

"Sherlock, what-"

"Please allow me to finish," he said, interrupting my interruption. "What you're thinking is irreverent because I know what you are feeling. I know the worry and despair that went through your mind as you rode away because I felt it as well. I knew your stubbornness would only lead you to be angry with me for my actions; but understand this Samantha," he sighed and enclosed my hand with both of his. "I cannot loose you. As long as I knew you are out there waiting for me I will stop at nothing to get back to you."

"And what if death comes knocking at your door?" I asked with a whisper, brushing his unruly hair from his eyes.

"Nothing." Sherlock squeezed my hand and the corners of his lips slowly turned upward. "Besides, my dear, I'm rather difficult to kill."

I couldn't help but laugh at his smugness as he lied there beaten and bruised. I leaned in and lightly brushed my lips against his rugged cheek.

"I think you can manage to finish cleaning yourself off. Change and rest, I'll be back soon enough."

"Mmmm I certainly could do with some new clothes couldn't I?" he smirked, tugging on the gaping rip in his pants. "And I suppose a bit more sleep couldn't hurt; I've often been told I don't get nearly enough."

I just smiled and shook my head, once more turning to leave. I stopped and looked back before closing the door.

"And Sherlock?" I said with a playful tone.

"Hmmm?" He looked up at me, already shuffling out of his shirt.

"I found M.A."

"From the handkerchief?" he asked. His eyes were now bright and filled with both curiosity and excitement. "Who is it? And how did manage-"

"Shh." I placed a finger to my lips and grinned. "Later. Stay off the leg and rest."

"How can I possibly force myself to sleep after such a fascinating discovery!"

"You'll manage, I'm sure." I said, smiling widely as I let the door shut behind me.


	10. Nanny

**Nanny**

I left the room and with a sigh let my head fall back and rest against the door. As thankful as I was that he was alive, albeit a bit broken, but alive all the same; I couldn't help but worry. Infection, if it happened, would be a major issue, and with or without Mycroft's girls, I would make it my first priority to get him back to Baker Street.

No matter how much of a fuss he put up.

I'd take him back to get fixed up, and we could come back…then again finding a way back home was going to be another chore in its self. I forced an inner laugh. Home. I was quickly forgetting my little bakery, not to mention my brother, and calling 322B my home, simply because he was there. I suppose he was right after all; home was wherever he was, and I had no intentions of staying away from long.

"Samantha?" Sherlock's muffled voice called from the other side of the door.

I closed my eyes and grimaced. Of course he knew I was there. Lingering. Nevertheless I said nothing.

"You'll get nothing out of fussing over me, Samantha. Especially if you are doing it from outside the room."

Silence hung in the air for a few moments and then the sound of the water bowl hitting the floor followed by familiar grumbling. I opened the door and quickly stepped back inside, not surprised at the sight of Sherlock trying to get himself on his feet.

"Don't get up," I scolded.

That devilish grin was already on his face while he had one hand firmly on the bed rail and his feet firmly on the floor. He pushed himself slowly.

"Holmes…" I warned.

"Really, my dear, you left me little choice. You'll be sulking until I'm up and about, so I might as well show you I am in fact in better health than you believe."

He released the hand on the bed rail, steadied himself and took a very labored step.

"See there, perfectly fine," he said smugly, just before his injured leg began to wobble. I quickly crossed the room and linked my arms under his right as he sunk into my embrace; and nearly brought me to the floor.

"Well almost," he groaned as I tried to help him back onto the bed.

I couldn't help but laugh. "You, Sherlock Holmes are incr—"

"Incredible? Incurable, incalculable?"

"Incorrigible."

"Oh," he breathed, getting himself situated. "Honestly now, Samantha, would you have me any other way?" he teased. Eyebrow arched and a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Probably not," I agreed. "And your point has been made Mr. Holmes."

"Good. Now go on then, you too can do some good with a rest and some cleaning up," he said squeezing my hand lightly.

He was right, spending most of the day in that hooded get-up, with the sun blaring down, not to mention all the dirt and blood that I had on me from his own wounds.

I nodded and with a short laugh left his room once more.

_**A/N: Sweet Holy Moses! Could it be…an actual honest to God update! Well a short one at that, but I have been meaning to get back to these two. And seeing the new Sherlock might have helped just a bit. Go see it by the way. Amazing! Simply wonderfully, beautifully, amazing. Sorry once more for my total suckage, and the shortness. But you guys totally deserved something, and I needed to hop back on the wagon, or pony, as it were. Anyway, you all know the drill.  
Lots of love,**_

_**Shelly.**_


	11. Leeches and Thingss

**Leeches and Things**

It seemed to take forever. With nothing but a bowl of water and a few scrap cloths to clean myself off with. The water was quickly turned pink with Sherlock's blood and even the rocks I had dug from his skin had begun to settle in my own. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I plucked another piece of gravel out of my palm.

_He could have died Samantha._

"Oh, there you are, I almost forgotten about my problems," I mocked at my thoughts.

_Just stating the truth, and while offended, at least you realize you're talking to yourself._

"I don't know what I'm talking to anymore," I sighed, letting the cloth flutter down to the bottom of the bowl. Yes, I suppose I was right, he could have died, but it wouldn't be completely my fault, would it have?

_Yes._

"Shut up, he wanted to do this in the first place." Of course it wasn't my fault, but he risked himself for me, that was something that wasn't gong to happen again. It couldn't.

_And how exactly are you going to do that?_

"I thought I told you to hush!" I scolded the restless voice inside my head. "I have no idea," I sighed. I dumped the dirty water out the window and slipped the dress that was laid out for me over my head, and attempted to smooth my hair into some sort of braid. I at least did my part to try to fit in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I was just starting to make myself comfortable when the yelling started.

"Damnit, woman, let me be," Sherlock's un-amused voice poured through the walls.

"Mr. Holmes, If I could just," a frustrated woman's voice replied; clearly Mary, and what was clearly some sort of scuffle

"No, madam," he paused and did god only knows what. "you may not!"

There was a crash and a several huffs of air.

"Oh, now look what you have done," came Mary's voice followed by some more clattering.

"Me? I assure you, madam, that, was not my fault," Sherlock's now fully annoyed tone retorted.

I made it a point to quickly compose myself and wander into the adjacent room. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing. Really, it shouldn't have been funny, it probably wouldn't have been if it were someone else. Sherlock was teetering on the corner of the bed with one arm pushed through the sleeve of a fresh shirt and one leg in a new pair of pants. The bowl of water was now over turned and on the floor, the dripping rag draped over Mary's hand, and both of their heads sopping wet.

"I'm not even going to try to make sense of this," I said inwardly, staring up at the ceiling.

"Very well," Mary huffed. "I, for one, am leaving. Good day Mr. Holmes, Samantha." She nodded in each of our directions and left with armfus of dirty linen and the old bowl.

"You know, Sherlock, you could at least attempt to be civil," I chuckled as I made my way to his bedside. He had already pulled his other arm through the shirt and was hopping the rest of the way into the clean pants.

"That woman, was…was…was," he stammered.

"Was trying to help," I finished calmly. "Besides that was Mary—"

"Yes, yes, Mary Allerdice, I know," he grumbled.

"Of course you do," I muttered under my breath.

"As if her speech wasn't enough, the way she carries herself has a certain distinction to it," he rambled on.

"Mmmhmm,"

"And her hands aren't as worn as you would expect a woman of this time to be. With all the extra work they have to do, her hands are worn but far less so."

"I knew it wouldn't take you long, that's why I didn't tell you in the first place," I said softly with a lopsided grin.

"Naturally, her recognition of me also helped," he smirked.

I lightly swatted his leg. "You are such a pompous ass, Sherlock Holmes," I laughed.

"Mmm pompous, I think that is Watson's favorite," he said mindlessly, but with a grin.

"It's fitting. Did you get any rest?" I asked

"No," he replied shortly, gazing out the window.

"Then, now that you're all sorted, I'll leave." I stopped and glanced his way.

He held my gaze for a few moments in silence.

"So you can rest." I finished with a halfhearted smile.

"No," he repeated while shaking his head. "I'll get no rest whether you are here or not, and I'd rather you are," he paused.

Feelings may not have been his greatest strength, but he did try, I'll give him that.

"Here that is," he finished and went on to break away from my look. I sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.

"All right," I agreed quietly.

He turned and looked at me; a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Samantha," he said before turning away again.

At least I wouldn't have to sit and wait for a doctor to come and bandage him up properly alone, even if he was apparently going to spend the next few days being a little stand off-ish. Not that I expected anything different from him.

* * *

The doctor showed up, eventually, I think his name was Merek; a small older man with pointy features and a balding head. He confirmed my suspicions of Sherlock bruising his leg bone and then suggested something along the lines of leeching.

"Leeching?" I swear Sherlock's ears perked up as he poured all his attention on the doctor. "Now that is worth attempting," he suggested wiggling his eyebrows.

"That won't be necessary," I piped in pushing the small man out the door, "fare the well," I said cheerily.

"If thou shalt change thou's mind—"he tried, digging his heels into the wooden floor boards.

"No, no, no," I kept pushing.

"Well, If you think it will help," Sherlock began, making his way to the edge of the bed.

"Mayhap, if thee—" Merek began.

"Nay!" I shouted and pushed the doctor out and shut the door behind securely behind him.

"Come now, Samantha. He was only attempting to help," Sherlock Mocked.

I rolled my eyes in response. "You heard him, he agreed, stay put for a few days, don't try to get up."

"Hmm, and you, my dear? How are your own injuries?" He asked, as if he wasn't even listing to a single word I said.

"Fine," I replied.

Truth is I hadn't even thought about them. My gash was all but healed and the stitches were nothing but string and a constant itch on my arm and my ribs had been subdued to a dull ache. I assumed they were still bruised, but I hadn't exactly looked at them recently, I suppose I could have Mary take a look, but what would she do? Nothing that I couldn't do on my own.

Three days passed terribly slowly. Sherlock was so restless, much more than I had ever seen. Since there was no pacing to be done he drummed the side of the bed rail almost the entire time, leaving me no choice but to leave during the day to save my own sanity. There was no way I was spending the day watching him talk to himself while stuck in that bed.

Even if I often did the same thing.

* * *

I would spend my days in the barn with the horses or help Mary with her daily chores and tried to get some information out of her. She knew nothing, as I thought she would. She couldn't remember a thing; she only remembered vaguely coming through and being pulled away to safety by Addison on horseback, similar as to what he did with me. How often was he riding out to see if girls came through, or as he saw it appeared out of a giant tree in the middle of the forest?

The night was always the same. I'd curl into his good side and he would breathe me in before placing a soft kiss to the top of my head and I quickly succored to sleep's call. If he actually slept of not, I'll never know, he was always awake when I crawled into the bed and awake staring at me with those dark eyes when I woke up.

* * *

**A/N: yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I am still loving these two, they are my guilty pleasure even if I don't use them much. Just stick with me yea? And don't forget to let me know you are enjoying!**


	12. it's kind of an update

Sorry guys It's just a nice A/N for you!

Guess who is feeling her Sherly sense kick in. Oh yea...this girl! I'd sincerely like to apologize for all my fanfic and internet lateness, I've been battling my own brain issues and have been making god awful trips to several specialists to figure out what the fuck is the matter with me. Oh look...now Samantha and I both have something pestering our brains. Anyway, they pretty much have it narrowed down, and while it's still crappy I'm still looking positive and nothing makes me happier than beating on old Holmsie...and making him better. So stay tuned. My laptop is currently being repaired at Dell so I'm on the snugglebugs desktop and just loaded Office on it, and am ready to pound it out.

See you soon!

Shelly

P.S.

Are you excited? I know I am! Lets discuss shall we?


	13. Crutch

**Crutch**

Mary had taken a liking to me rather quickly, not to stroke my ego but I could see why; that little spark of home that she had missed so dearly was now right in front of her in tangible form, and I enjoyed her company as well. Not that I didn't like Clarice or Addison, but having a conversation with someone that sounded as if they stepped out of King Arthurs court could be tiresome. So was having a conversation with Sherlock for that matter.

Mary had shown me how to tend to the horses, it kept me busy and calmed my mind during the day and allowed me to do my share. I felt as if something needed to be done, Addison did open up his home to us, after all. I gave Linota a few loving pats to her hind leg after I was done brushing her coat and offered a few apple slices from the pocket of my khakis. She sniffed my hand before gently taking the slices from me and quickly enjoyed them, giving me a small whinny and a gently nudge with her nose into my hand when she was done. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry, that's it; all gone, all I had, and I gave it to you."

She pressed her nose into me again and I let my hand go up and scratch her behind the ears. I never looked at horses as anything but something to pull those annoying carriages around town and rob tourists of their money, I guess I should have stopped along the street and given one some of the admiration it deserved instead the horn honking they usually received. Linota let out a puff of air and put her head softly on my shoulder and I laughed again and continued down the length of her neck.

"She likes you."

I turned to see Sherlock's body propped up against the doorframe of the barn, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

"What did, how—no, never mind, I don't want to know," I shook my head and took a step closer to him.

"Wait, yes, yes I do," I continued.

Even partially shadowed I could see him smirk as he arched his eyebrows.

"I swear to god Holmes if you injure yourself further—"

"Not to worry, Samantha dear," he cut me off, leaning away from the doorway. Out of instinct I started to hurry to his side when he pulled a crutch out from behind the door.

"See, nothing to fret," he grinned and tapped it on the wooden door, before hobbling in towards me, grunting with each step he took. I sighed and went to his side, sliding under his good arm and taking some of his weight and led him to a bale of hay.

"Thanks be to thee, fair maiden," he said, looking up at me while puffing out his chest and placing his hands on his hips.

I was quick to clasp my hand over his mouth.

"Shhh, shut up," I laughed. I felt him grin against my skin. "Why couldn't you just stay put until you were better?" I probed him while rolling my eyes.

"Come now, Samantha. That room could only hold my interest for only so long, you leave throughout the day—"

"Only because—"

"I know why," he re-interrupted. "Pompous is the word you like to use I believe," he said accusingly lifting his eyebrows.

"I was going to say fidgety," I snapped.

"Oh," he furrowed his brow. "Nonetheless, look at what I have been missing, Samantha!" He waved his arms around the stables and tapped the cane on the ground. "What is this, I'd say mid fifteenth century at best, judging by the architecture and their clothes," he rambled on, "I didn't get a good look at the market, I'd quite like to go back there," he continued, rubbing the light stubble on his chin.

"Not quite half," I whispered, "but don't worry Mr. Holmes I won't hold that against you," I winked.

His chocolate eyes snapped up and locked up onto mine, frantically scanning them for some type of answer; I only stared blankly and grinned.

"How is my face going to tell you what you're looking for," I smiled sweetly bouncing on my toes.

Sherlock ran his hands through his hands and groaned and without thinking pushed himself up on his legs and with a sharp intake of air started to come back down again.

"Damnit Sherlock!" I hurried beneath him, but not fast enough and we both landed on the straw ground, him rolling over and grasping his leg and I my middle. Eventually we both turned to face one another, faces slightly pale from pain and hay weaved into our hair.

"That could have been avoided," he scolded, closing his eyes and sighing, rolling over onto his back.

I answered his sigh with one of my own and plucked a piece of straw from behind his ear. "Fourteen twenty six," I said softly. I scooted up and brought my lips close to his ear, "and I'm sorry," I whispered placing a kiss just below the gray tufts in his hair. "Come, I'll help you up." I sat up and was promptly stopped by Sherlock's hand encircling my wrist. I looked back to see warm brown eyes staring back at me. He used his other arm to push himself up, his eyes lingering on mine the entire time, offering me his own soft smile of apology.

Sherlock gently laid a hand in the center of my chest, he grinned when he felt the immediate change in my heart beat and I felt my face go pink.

"Lie down," he commanded with a low tone

"Sherlock I—" I dropped my voice to a hushed whisper. "We're in the middle of an open barn."

He flashed a full smile. "I am well aware of our surroundings, Samantha darling." He paused, waiting to do as I was told, his hand still on my chest and my little heart pounding away, he leaned in closer. "Now lie back," he said huskily when he was hardly an inch away, his eyes dark and inviting and the sweet scent of tobacco escaped from his lips. He closed the gap between us, teasing my lips slowly; his one hand remaining still while the one wrapped around my wrist was now traveling up to the middle of my back. My breath shuddered when he pulled away and began to dip me down himself.

"Sherlock, I…as much as I want…not that I don't want to… it's just,"

He leaned in again and this time pressed the kiss to my forehead. "I only want to take a look at your ribs, Samantha, that opportunity, as it were, just so happened to present itself.

I smiled and scoffed shaking my head as I finally laid back down into the straw. Sherlock Holmes: consulting detective, genius, perhaps a little insane and now dare I add tease to the list?

He rolled up the bottom of my shirt, gently, slowly, his fingertips just barely grazing my skin as he did so, sending bolts of electricity through my spine.

Yeah, he knew what he was doing.

I felt him tenderly trace the outlines of my bruises, which couldn't have been much of anything now, gently pressing the area around my middle checking for tenderness, finding little, and with each touch he was only building my arousal. His hands went to my hips and began to slide up, his thumbs gently pressing into my sides. My breath hitched and my body trembled. I pushed up onto my elbows and glared at him while biting my lower lip.

"Am I causing you discomfort?" he asked, making eye contact with me but his hands kept moving against my skin.

"Something of the sort," I uttered with a coy smile, clearing my throat and sitting up all the way.

"Well I must say Ms. Parker; your wounds do seem to be healing quite nicely." His hands had come to rest on my back now as he sad directly in front of me, his fingers making small intimate circles on my flesh.

"Is that so Mr. Holmes?"

"Mmm," he hummed, removing one of his hands to untangle bits of hay from my hair before tucking it behind my ear.

"And what of your own wounds?" I asked with mock curiosity, "I have it on good authority that the doctor here is not as good as your usual doctor," I teased running my hands up his chest and locking my hands behind his neck.

"Well then, I just might need someone to tend to me as well," he replied, pulling me to him to claim my lips with his own.

"You, or your wounds?" I giggled against his mouth.

Sherlock pulled away slightly and I swear I saw him roll his eyes. "Honestly, my dear Samantha, at this point is there any difference?" He stared at me with a raised eyebrow, actually waiting for an answer.

I chuckled and shook my head.

"Right then." He pulled me back into him and groaned when I raked my fingers through his hair. He slid his tongue along my lower lip and I eagerly welcomed him in, situating myself more on his lap. Sherlock let out a muffled yelp when my leg slid over his injured one. I stopped and pulled away.

"Oh god, Sherlock, I'm sorry, we probably shouldn't do this now anyway." I smiled sadly running my hand down the length of his cheek.

"Perhaps you're right, we shall go back to the house and—"

"Are you serious?" I examined his face like he had examined mine so many times before, those big brown eyes still full of hunger and desire, barely a hint of my detectives mind to be found.

"Always," he stated, cocking his head to the left yet the look in his ever changing face remained the same. I leaned in closer to him.

"Are you on something, Holmes? What's with all the oncoming affection?" I asked accusingly, not being able to help my eyes from drifting down to his fore arms.

"Absolutely not!" He cradled my head in his hands. "You are the only drug that runs through my veins, Samantha."

"No, no, then they gave you something," I laughed.

"Nonsense, I am perfectly capable of showing affection—"

"This is different, this is…this is…I don't know what this is," I gathered his hands in mine, "Not that it's not nice, we have bigger things to attend to." I sighed and pressed kiss to his cheek and let my head rest on his shoulder. "Whatever it was, it must have been good stuff."

Sherlock secured an arm around my shoulder, "I assure you darling, there was nothing. I woke, Addison's father fashioned me the cane, we shared some wine," he paused. "Oh."

"What, oh?"

Sherlock passed a hand over his face.

"Sherlock, I've seen you drink wine, and you can handle more than your share."

He shook his head, "No, it must have been the wine, that man is not far from mad, I wouldn't doubt if his wine was spiked with something." He was slowly coming back now.

"What was in the wine, Sherlock?"

"Help me up, Samantha," he groaned putting pressure on his good leg as I pulled him up by his other arm, leaving to teeter while I got his crutch. I slid under his good side so we could move faster and we exited the barn.

"That way," he nodded behind the main house and led me to a little work shed. He left my side and wandered into the door way, shifting items aside until he found the bottle. It was empty, but still corked, which Sherlock quickly removed and gave the bottle a sniff before licking the stopper. He put the cork back in place and left the bottle behind with a smirk and a shake of the head. Once he was outside he limped over to the large field of surrounding pink and white flowers, bent over and plucked one, before returning to me.

Sherlock cleared his throat and twirled the flower in front of me by the stem.

"Pretty, is that for me _**as**_ an effect of the wine, or _**is**_ that the effect of the wine," I said with a wise grin.

"This, my dear Samantha, is valerian, what you call your basic cure all. Headache, nausea, insomnia, aches and pains, and if someone just so happens to mix it up with a little bit of neat wine it can make a very nice aphrodisiac." He stared back at the work shed. "Davidson, son of David and now most defiantly mad."

"Davidson, son of David? That's really how he introduces himself?"

"His exact words," Sherlock grinned.

"Wow, he's almost as prideful as you," I said, giving his shoulder a nudge.

He chuckled, "What happened to pompous?"

"Nah, you're the most pompous person I know, and I'll have you know, I just so happen to adore that."

"I see," he murmured, staring out at the never-ending land that lay before us.

"So I guess it was the wine after all," I sighed, bowing my head and toeing up some dirt with my shoe. I felt his arm slip around my middle and I was pulled into his side, his breath hot in my ear.

"If the world was coated in valerian, it would still not be enough for what I feel for you."

I lifted my head and was greeted by beautiful dark soulful eyes and a hand caressing an unknown tear from my cheek.

"And that, Samantha darling, is not from the wine."

* * *

**A/N: **

**ER MAH GAWD YOU GUYS! Holy Moses right? Could it be that I'm really here, back from the land of...I don't know...wherever. I can't promise I'm back, we all know how I like to disappear, but I had way too much fun with this chapter. I really had a crabby Holmes scene plan plotted out, and Mary and Sam had a scene but then both of those got tossed in the trash an Holmes was all in my head saying just let me make out with her please, it's been so damned long woman! So happily I obliged. I see I have some new folks that have jumped on board. Hello and welome! Don't be afraid to drop me a line, I love to talk to you guys! I hope that last bit from Holmes wasn't too much cheese, I just adore tapping into that soft side...seriously, we all know it is there...somewhere. ANYWAY thanks for reading. I've truly missed you and my sweet Samlock. Don't forget to hit that fantastic blue button on your way out the barn!**


	14. Maternal

**Maternal**

He made no motion to move away from me; we just lay there, silently, his arms wrapped around my back and my head tucked securely beneath his chin, my cheek resting on the warmth of his chest as we looked up at the sky hidden in the depths of the surrounding valerian flowers. Perhaps he had felt guilty that I had accused him of needing some type of drug to be able to show random affection, or perhaps he was surprisingly in a tender mood. Either way, I wasn't going to complain; even if his mind was racing at a million miles a second in our current surroundings I really didn't care, so long as I got to enjoy the moment.

"Sherlock," I called his name softly. He didn't vocally reply but his body shifted and the slight tracing on my back had come to a still. "Can I… can I ask about your parents?" I asked nervously fidgeting with a button on his shirt.

"You may," he replied dryly.

"And will you answer?" I laughed.

I heard him sigh before his grip tightened around me and I was being shifted onto my side so that he was now facing me, but we were still hidden amongst the flowers.

"Why the sudden interest, Samantha."

"Curiosity is all," I answered honestly. "You don't have to, Sherlock, I was just wondering what the great Mr. and Mrs. Holmes must have been like."

"He wasn't great," Sherlock uttered, frowning slightly. "My mother yes, but my father, not in the slightest. At least what I can remember of him." He sighed once more and turned back to focus on the sky.

"Oh," I softly replied, not knowing or being able to come up with anything else to say. I figured the matter was closed; I got what I asked for, honestly I was surprised that I had even gotten that. Then again he was a little more giving lately, sometimes I had to push, but at least he was trying.

"She was the clever one, you know," he continued after a short amount of silence.

I glanced up at his face; his eyes closed in the sun and a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Mycroft and I were lucky enough to acquire that trait from her. Her name was Margaret, spent thirteen years of my life schooling my brother and myself, scolding Mycroft as he would sulk when his calculations were wrong." Sherlock smirked at the memory before his face fell sullen "Then she was gone, left my father to be with his poison and drink," he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "And we never saw her again. We received letters for a year or so, but that only fed his anger. Constant paper cuts combined with the redness in his eyes and the way he distanced himself from Mycroft and myself; I knew she still wrote, for years to come, and then it was us who left him."

I set my hand on top of his chest and worriedly studied his face, not knowing what, or if I should say anything at all.

"From then on out it was just Mycroft and I, and years after that came John Watson and Baker Street and then you."

He turned back to face me then, his eyes holding a solemn sadness as he caressed my cheek. "And for you I am sorry that along with my mother's mind I have adapted my father's addiction."

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are you, not your mother, most certainly not your father, you are you." I placed my hand over his and smiled gently, "What your mother passed on to you is a gift and you use it as such, as for your father, his is a burden you don't have to accept. You're a greater man than you think you are, underneath all those thick layers of skin."

Sherlock pressed his forehead into mine. "I often think that you are far greater than I deserve, Samantha." Softly he pressed his lips to mine and pulled me close. "I may not say it, but you must know that I," he paused, stumbling over his words. I tilted up my head and smirked.

"Yes?"

"I—well I care for you deeply, and um-well, you must know that I—I um-well, right then," he fumbled some more.

"I know," I replied with a smile, chuckling as I adjusted myself back into the comfort of his side.

"Not a word of this to Watson, I've known him a considerable amount longer and all he knows is when my mother gave birth to me."

"My lips are sealed."

"And not to that Hannah girl either, I am well aware of the ways women feel the need to share tales that do not pertain to them."

"Gossip?" I laughed

"Precisely," he answered curtly. I could feel him nod, his chin resting gently atop my head.

"Thank you, Sherlock," I whispered.

"You are most welcome, Samantha."

"I believe we are about to be interrupted," Sherlock grumbled, turning his head back towards the house. "In three, two, one—"

"Samantha?" Mary's voice called, her boots softly shuffling in the grass.

"Over here," I answered, waving my arm in the air and sitting up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," she flushed and looked out towards the fields.

"No, no, don't be silly." I gently removed Sherlock's hand from my hip and got to my knees to be able to see her better. "What's up?"

"Oh, um," she glanced back at Sherlock who was now looking back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Addison thinks I can speak well enough on my own now that I can go into town, thought you might like to go and look around, seeing as Mr. Holmes isn't well enough to be out on his own yet."

Sherlock scoffed, "I assure you woman, I can handle myself quite well, thank you,"

"Sherlock," I warned, with hardened steel eyes.

He opened his mouth only to shut it again, shook his head and looked away.

"I'd love to Mary, thank you. Just give me a minute, why don't you go get the horses ready."

She nodded, glancing between Sherlock and myself before heading towards the barn.

Sherlock stood before placing a hand under my elbow and helping me to my feet and brushing the grass from his pants.

"Samantha, that woman is implying that I cannot do something as simple as—"

"What she is saying Sherlock," I cut off his building rant, "is that you still need a few days more rest." I rest a hand on his chest, "And I agree. I'll be back in a few hours!" I called over my shoulder as I walked away.

"Samantha wait," he lurched forward and grasped my hand. "Be careful."

"Sherlock—"

He brought his head in closer and his voice dropped, "Don't do anything foolish, Samantha, step lightly, say nothing if you can help it. While my recollection is slight, I can tell you that none of those women have ever been down in those cells, I fear they are being saved for something much worse. I _cannot_ lose you. Promise me."

"I'll be fine; I'll be as quiet as a mouse." I grinned, attempting to free myself from his grip, only to be pulled back.

"You must promise…please," he pleaded, his eyes begging like nothing I had never seen before; he was genuinely scared for me to go, and that in turn scared me.

"I promise," I sighed, gently taking his hands and pressing a kiss to his fingertips. "I'll be back before you know it."

"I find that highly unlikely," I heard him mumble as I left him standing there helpless, and I was about to go on a potentially dangerous field trip.

* * *

**A/N: And so continues my battle with the L word. Nope, he just can't say it, I seriously refuse to believe it is in my sweet Holmsies vocabulary. Sorry it's a filler, and sorry it's a little short, but hey, we never hear anything about momma and papa Holmes, and I wanted some more fluff before we get into the meaty stuff. Besides...I'm still working out the meaty stuff. We all know I just kind of wing it. Don't forget to hit that blue button! I see you new peeps! Show me some love! I'd really love to hit one hundred reviews before next chapter.**

**-Shelly**


	15. In His Shadow

**In His Shadow**

The ride was long and quiet; I sat in silence, fiddling with the lace edging of the dress I was forced into as I stared blankly out the window. Mary swatted my hand away.

"Leave it be, Samantha, find something else to keep your hands busy," she scolded in a firm yet gentle tone. I sighed as if I were a child and tucked my feet under my legs, my fingers now busy with the braid that had found its way over my shoulder. I had no idea what to look for once we got there, this wasn't a trip I intended to take without Sherlock but I would have to make do.

_You have ears Samantha, all those years snooping on mommy and daddys bickering; you can be quite the nosey body when you want to be._

I rolled my eyes and rubbed at my temples. The last thing I wanted to be doing was arguing with myself with Mary sitting right beside me.

_Aww, what's the matter Sammy? No wise words for me today? Haven't you missed me?_

I ground my teeth and eagerly tapped my fingers along the bottom of the seat. Mary was busy eying me with an arched eyebrow.

_I'm just trying to help is all; always trying to help and you're always so mean. _My mind snickered.

I pursed my lips, tugging tightly at the ribbon wrapped around my braid and steadily tapping my foot against the seat.

"So," Mary coughed lightly, breaking the so called silence. "You and Mr. Holmes then?"

Her question quickly brought me back to reality, causing my fingers to slip from under the ribbon and sending my hand directly up into my face. I could hear my mind snicker as I shook off the sudden sting.

"What?" I turned to her, my voice a little higher than usual.

Mary narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you all right, Samantha?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I forced a smile as I nodded. "You were saying?"

"I've been in Mycroft Holmes employ for quite some time now, and excuse me in saying but neither Holmes brother is what you would call fit to be a suitor. Or at least they show no interest in being so."

"No, I would say you're absolutely right," I laughed.

Mary smiled, "And charming as he can be, Mycroft Holmes can be so, so…"

"Pompous?" I suggested with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, promptly y covering her mouth with her hand. "But you and Sherlock Holmes, now that is something different. That is something I thought I would never see."

"Don't I know it," I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the thought of him pacing, no hobbling around that tiny room until we returned, driving himself insane.

The carriage came to a slow and stopped.

Mary locked her green eyes onto mine and spoke quietly. "All right, stay close, and try your best not to speak."

I nodded and took a deep calming breath. "Here we go," I whispered to myself, just as Mary pushed open the door and we stepped out into the tree canopy.

"Return before the sunsets, the roads are less than safe after night fall," our driver told her as he secured the wagon to a nearby tree.

"Many thanks to thee, Bran," Mary said with a polite smile and a short bow.

"Be safe mistress Mary, I shall only be a call away if trouble should arise," Bran looked between us both with concerned eyes. He was a tall man; muscular, I was pretty sure he could hold his own pretty damn well in a fight, with dark cropped hair that matched his eyes.

"Keep your ears open, just in case," I said quietly, fixing the damage I had done to my hair and re-lacing up my boots.

"Keep thy lips sealed and my worry will be for naught," he replied with a tilt of his head and I swear a small snicker.

_Whoa there Samantha, medieval boy has got a bit of a mouth on him!_ My mind snorted at his lippy response.

"Right—" I said slowly, briskly brushing my hands off and signaling Mary that I was ready to leave.

* * *

Mary figured it would be safest if we stuck to the market; I had already been there once before and some of the vendors there knew her already. I drank everything in as she gathered supplies for Addison; the buildings, the people, the stockades that once held Sherlock now had new men in them. Men that had looked far worse health wise. Their clothes were nothing but scraps that clung to their bodies by their own filth. You could count each and every protruding rib and vertebrae. Their cheeks were sunken in and their eyes were heavily bagged. To be bought by someone would be a gift; another day out here would kill them for sure, if not hours. I couldn't hide the sadness in my eyes, they had seemed so young; and now their youth would be cut short because the law sad it so.

"Brothers," a kind voice came from behind me. I turned to see man selling vegetables that Mary had called Samuel looking back at me with a similar sad expression. "Less than a fortnight ago they were found pilfering from the Baker, The Ealdorman let them fester below before sending them to certain doom. Such punishment seems as if it is for naught." He let his hand fall down hard on his table top, allowing a tomato to fall onto the ground. "Let them have the bread say I, what say you, fair maiden?" Samuel raised his eyebrows at me and waited for my reply; Mary only stared with a half open mouth.

"Aye, good sir," I said with a quietly with a smile and a nod. "Let them keep the bread."

"'Tis good to see there is some kindness left in this world. May I ask thy name?"

"Samantha."

Samuel took my hand and kissed the back of it gently, "A fair name for a fair maiden. Fare thee well, Samantha."

"Fare thee well, Samuel," I said sweetly with a warm smile and a small bow before following Mary away from his cart.

"You're supposed to be picking up clues, not men," Mary hissed at me under her breath with a grin.

I shot her a warning look, pursing my lips together as I lifted a finger in front of them.

"Right," she nodded, waiting a full three steps before having a giggle fit. "I hope Mr. Holmes isn't the jealous type," she breathed between laughs.

I couldn't help but laugh a little myself, "Shhh," I hushed her grabbing her arm and pulling her away, "I wasn't doing any picking up, now zip it, before you—"

"Greetings good ladies."

Both our heads snapped up to see a tall figure dressed in dark clothes, while they did not look like they were very expensive he certainly didn't look like he was on the lower end of things. His face was shaven with a day or two's stubble prickling at his cheeks, his messy dirty blonde hair clung to his forehead and his dark eyes were full of judgment. Then my eyes focused on the whip that was held in place on his hip. The same man that had stood guard over Sherlock the day Addison and I came to find him.

"G-Good day Rowan, how fair thee?" Mary stammered out, bowing her head slightly and pulling out the corner of her dress.

"Very well, and thee?"

Mary's lips formed a tight nervous smile while she nodded quickly and tried to step around him, but he was quick to block her with a step of his own.

"Addison now sends not one wench, but two to do his bidding?" Mavis asked accusingly, leering at the bundle in her arms. He plucked an apple off the top and tossed it up lightly before catching it and taking a bite. Mary blinked in response.

"I asked thee a question, wench," he said with another bite, narrowing his brow and taking a step closer, bring his face down to eye level with hers.

Mary coughed and stumbled over a number of syllables, none of them coherent enough to make any word, taking a few slow steps back.

_Keep it zipped Samantha! _My mind hissed; naturally I didn't listen, I wasn't about to see how skilled whip boy was with his weapon of choice.

"His father does not fare well," I spoke up.

Rowan' cold eyes immediately clicked over to me and he grinned; bits of apple peel clinging to his teeth and juice running from the corners of his lips. "Is that so?"

"Aye, Addison wishes to be near him," I nodded, "He shall be expecting our return with matters to aid his ailment." I placed my hand under Mary's elbow and took a daring step closer to him, his eyes never leaving mine as he took another bite from the apple and slowly chewed.

"Then I shan't keep you," he said through a sideways grin and a head tilt, taking a step to the side and moving his arm in a sweeping motion to let us pass. "My regards to Davidson," he quipped with a sly grin.

"Thanks be to thee, Rowan," Mary's voice squeaked out as made our way past him.

"And to you," he replied with a nod, lifting the apple core between his thumb and forefinger before tossing it off into a nearby ally. His eyes narrowed and drifted between the two of us, stopping when his gaze met mine; the corner of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly. I gave Mary's arm a few tugs, her eyes were wide and her feet glued to the ground.

"Addison awaits our arrival," I hissed into her ear, giving her another tug.

"Aye, he does." Making several quick nods she finally gave in to my pulling and began shuffling behind me through the marketplace.

There were a few more things that Addison did ask Mary to get while we were here; and as Mary did her business with the vendors I stood back and let my eyes wander, every so often finding Rowan lurking by some nearby booth, or holding some type of fake conversation while his eyes were fixated on us. We needed to leave, and we needed to do it alone. Once Mary was finished we started back towards the carriage.

The sound of rattling chains stopped me, and I turned to find myself in front of the boys in the stockade; the rattling being caused by their legs giving out from under them. Not a soul was giving them a second look, this was the sort of thing that happened every day, young boys being put up to die in their own filth for petty crimes. I let out a heavy sigh. One of them rolled their head and I was met with a pair of wet blue eyes, they reminded me of Stephen; and that broke my heart. I felt the tear trickle down my cheek as the boy watched, confused why this stranger would cry over him.

"Samantha," it was Mary's turn to hiss in my ear now as she jabbed her elbow into me. I blinked the rest of my tears away and turned to her. She only jerked her head to a nearby vendor. Low and behold there was our whip toting shadow, just standing there, watching.

"It's been like that since we first left him. How well do you know your way around town?" I whispered, keeping my head low.

"Not all that well, I've only been a handful of times." she said with a shrug of her shoulders, "Why?"

I looked back at the blue eyed boy, who was still watching me, and gave him a small sad smile. "You better remember real fast." I turned around and looked for a crowded alley for us to slip away in. "Let's go."

We weaved in and out the people, behind vendors and eventually into the alley. I took a moment to glance back and sure enough he was still there, pushing his way through.

"Step it up, Mary," I called, giving her back a light push, causing her to stumble slightly.

"But I—"

"Just go!"

We stumbled out of the alley and into another one; less people and now I could hear him coming.

"There are much fouler dogs beyond the market than I ladies," he yelled from somewhere behind us.

I grabbed Mary's arm and ran faster, through two more darkened alleys before finally coming to a series of archways and what looked like a large drainage ditch surrounding a large building. I grabbed the bag from and haphazardly dumped some things inside one of the adjacent archways before dropping it on the ground and then began dragging her toward the ditch.

"Come on."

"You're not serious," she scoffed, glancing at the muddy hole.

I looked back to the alley and thankfully hadn't seen Rowan emerging…yet. I nodded, pulling her hand once more.

"Do you have any idea what—"

"Don't know don't care," I shot back, wasting no time dropping to my knees and sliding down the side of the dirt hill into the wet below.

"Come on!" I rushed her, waving my hands at her. Mary nervously glanced around and reluctantly got down on the ground and slid down to join me. We crouched down and lie flat against the dirt and waited. The slope was a good six feet, with any luck he wouldn't see us, take the bag bait and just keep on going.

The footsteps finally came; I could hear his heavy breathing dangerously close to where we were as he paced the grounds above. I pressed myself harder into the dirt in some weak attempt to flatten myself into the slope. Mary stared at me with wide eyes, her fingers desperately digging into the earth.

"It'll be okay," I mouthed to her, sliding my hand over hers and giving it a light squeeze.

Rowan walked around the area longer than what felt necessary, but finally the sweet sound of his boots hitting stone filled my ears. Mary's eyebrows shot up and she began to move.

I shook my head. "Not yet, give it a little while, just in case." I whispered.

She nodded in response and gave a weary look back at the building leering behind us.

We waited for a good half hour, the sun was quickly setting; and getting out of this giant hole was a hell of a lot harder than getting in. We were both a mess, covered in dirt, the bottom foot or so of our dresses soaked in brown water and while climbing out I slid back down and got a nasty gash on my knee by an embedded rock. Mary went and salvaged what she could from the dropped bag, which sadly was nearly half.

"We can't go back through the market," I said with a sigh, "he'll be expecting that."

Mary turned back to me and shook her head. "This place is surrounded by woods; past those arches should be a straight shot behind the market. If I'm right we could go right back to the carriage."

"Woods it is then," I said attempting to brush some of the dirt from my hands. "And it's not completely dark so—" I was cut off by a blood curdling scream. Mary's face turned white and her eyes turned up to the building behind us.

"Mary, what exactly is this place?" I asked slowly.

"Trust me, Samantha, you don't want to know."

* * *

It was still light when we reached the carriage, but barely. Our trip through the woods had been quiet with the exception of each time one of our dresses would snag on a branch and the fabric would tear, or one of us would trip and add a nice new scrape to our collection.

Bran, our driver, was happy to see us return, but less than pleased that we didn't call for him.

"I handled it," I told him dryly as he scolded me on the ride home.

"It is not thy job; a lady should not do such things!"

"Well then thanks be to thee that this is not my damned time period!" I snapped and we rode the rest of the way in silence.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was a whole different story.

"Samantha!" His face flushed white when we got back to the house, he quickly hobbled over to me, taking my hand and running his fingers down the length of my scraped up skin. "This is your fault." He said darkly, turning his eyes on Mary. "I should've known—"

"Sherlock, stop," I rested my hands on his shoulders. "Look at her, she was scared to death, it was not her fault. And I'm fine, just some bumps along the road, nothing major."

"Who was it, and why was he following you?" Sherlock asked.

"We never said we were followed," Mary pitched in.

Sherlock's fingers twitched in annoyance against my skin and I groaned. She was not just pressing his buttons but pounding on them with a sledgehammer.

"You would think a woman in my brother's employ wouldn't be so daft; and yet you continue to amaze me."

"Holmes," I warned.

He released me and held up a single finger, taking a labored step towards Mary. "Did you two go gallivanting through a ditch for fun, or was it indeed a hiding place. Superficial wounds would suggest a route other than the nice stroll through town, and the fear, dear woman, is still etched all over your face. Now I repeat why was he following you," he snarled.

"I…I don't know," she whispered.

"I think he overheard her talking to me," I sighed, passing a hand over my face.

"So it was your fault," Sherlock snapped.

Mary hung her head and looked away. "It was an accident."

"There is a difference madam, between accidentally and idiotically and you walk the path of the latter," he said coldly.

"Sherlock!" I grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

"What?!"

"Leave her be, I'm just as much to blame as her and we are both fine so stop."

His eyes met mine and he sighed. "Things could have been much, much worse, Samantha," he said with concern. "If they had—"

"But they weren't," I hushed him, "and I'm fine."

Sherlock brushed his hand against the length of my cheek and tucked a strand of stray hair behind my ear. "You're certain you're all right?" His chocolate eyes filled with worry.

"Yes, and we'll talk more about it while you help me get cleaned up."

He nodded and glanced back at Mary. "Ms. Allerdice, I'm glad that you both made it back in allegedly one piece." Without another word he turned and slowly made his way to the stairs.

"What was that?" Mary whispered.

"That was the closest thing you'll get to an apology," I laughed. "You best go wash up as well," I smiled, before Clarice catches sight of you in that dress.

* * *

**A/N:Hello my lovelies! thanks soo much for helping me reach my 100 reviews goal before this chapter, you all are soo wonderful! I apologize for the lack of Holmes here, but I promise I won't be making a habit of that but at least it was nice an long for you. YAY! This probably would have been up sooner but I have just been so tired lately. I'll try to get hopping on the next one some time tonight. **

**Hit that button on the way out and Samantha will make you some muffins!**

**-Shelly**


	16. Old Habits

**Old Habits**

**(Holmes)**

I should have said something to prevent her from going in the first place. The moment that Allerdice woman mentioned going off on their own I had a twisting feeling in the depths of my stomach. Not that it would have mattered. Samantha would have gone whatever my opinion was on the matter. At least she had made it back to me with only minor injuries. Injuries she had said were mostly of her own blame, of that I was not convinced.

I had made it half way up the stairwell when Samantha caught up to me; her arm casually slipping around my middle and taking on part of my weight.

"You're getting slow old man," she teased.

"Oh, how you wound me, darling," I mocked, placing a hand over my chest as I stole a glimpse of her out the corner of my eye. Even through the dirt and scrapes her eyes shone and lit up her face from within when she chuckled.

"Soon enough this leg will be right as rain and I'll feel as young as ever," I breathed once we reached the top of the stairs and I pushed open the door to our current room.

"Good, because I want you back," she stated plainly, entering the room and making her way over to the chair beside the bed to begin un-lacing her boots.

Perhaps it was meant as an innocent comment, she said it with little emotion, and then again she was very good at that. So what exactly did she mean that she wanted me back, I hadn't gone anywhere; I was practically confined to a room all day until recently. I sat on the bed beside her, resting a hand on her thigh.

"I'm right here, Samantha."

Her grey eyes turned up and found mine and she gave me a small smile, "I know," she whispered, "It's just-" she stopped, closing her eyes and licking her lips. "I'd like to get cleaned up."

Something had happened today, something that had obviously struck a chord with her; it had hurt her somehow in more ways than one. I wasn't going to press her on the issue, well, not too hard anyway, it was in my nature to be curious, after all.

"Of course," I nodded.

She stood and I brushed the dark waves of hair out of the way and undid the buttons at her back, slipping the dress down from her shoulders. There were few scrapes on her back, most of the damage had been done to her fore arms and the one deep one on her knee. Retrieving the water basin, I wet a rag and ran it over her body. Samantha's breath hitched at my touch.

"Cold," she said softly, crossing her arms in front of her. "I'd kill for a warm bath," she scoffed.

"When we get back, I'll draw you one myself," I assured her, moving on to her arms. She kept her eyes on either on the window or the floor boards as I rinsed away the day's mess, making it a point to avoid my gaze. What was she hiding? What had upset her so?

I slid one of my shirts around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she murmured, stuffing her arms through, still keeping her eyes away.

"Samantha," I said softly attempting to coax her out of her shell. Her hard silver eyes met mine for hardly a moment before she looked away again.

"Darling, look at me," I tried again.

She simply shook her head no, closing her eyes in a failed attempt to stop a tear from escaping. I sighed, wiping away her tear with the pad of my thumb and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Then sit, so I can take a look at that knee."

Samantha sat upon the bed and I beside her; she turned to her side, tucking one leg under her and letting the other run the length of the bed and over my lap. It wasn't bad; she hardly even flinched as I brushed out the dirt that lined the outside of the cut. My hand slid down and tenderly rubbed her slightly swollen ankle, an old injury, but one that still bothered her and would for most of her days.

"Are you sore?"

"A little," she bleakly replied, "but nothing that won't be gone by morning."

She looked at me then, her usually vivid eyes full of pain and sorrow. She chewed her bottom lip and took a shuddering breath, "It was the man with the whip, the same one that had you, Rowan," she said quietly.

"I suspected so, dear, but that is no reason to be so upset. Unless-" the mere thought of him getting near her was enough to drive me mad, I grasped her hands in mine. "Did he hurt you; in anyway, what did he say?"

"No." Samantha shook her head. "I saw a boy, in the market, like they had you." More tears fell from the corners from her eyes as she spoke. "He looked at me, Sherlock, he had Stephen's eyes, that boy has done nothing and now will most likely be dead within a day or two," she cried.

"Samantha, that boy was not your brother, I assure you," I stressed.

"I know that, Sherlock, it's just…just," she paused, running a hand through her dark waves, her sorrow transforming to anger as she stood from the bed, knocking over the chair in the process. "When they took you, I heard everything, every cry of pain, every yell, each pound they delivered on your body. It broke me, Sherlock! That boy and his brother do you know what they did? They stole a loaf of bread and from the looks of it they hadn't eaten in months; does that deserve death? That man _feeds_ off pain and suffering and it needs to stop."

My chest tightened, I still found it strange after all this time how her words could make me feel, she was driven with such a passion. Not the passion that I had to solve the puzzle, but the passion to fix it because it was wrong, but we hadn't the time to take on everything. I held out my hand to her and she returned to my side.

"Samantha, the task at hand is to find Mycroft's house maids," I said, brushing a curl behind her ear. Her look locked onto mine and the anger faded from her features with a sigh.

"I know," she said sadly. Samantha moved closer, placing both her hands on the side of my face and running her fingers through my hair. "The quicker we find those girls the quicker we can find a way back home." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on mine.

"My home or yours?" I asked teasingly, but also curious as if her answer would still be to remain with me after the problems we had come to encounter.

"Sherlock," she sighed.

Her eyes opened and I was greeted with soft blue irises staring back at me. I couldn't help but smile as she continued to look into me.

"You promised me a warm bath," she grinned

I nodded.

"And a warm bed?" she asked, her lips inching closer.

"Whatever you desire, Samantha," I murmured.

"You," she whispered, kissing me softly.

"Always," I replied against her lips, cradling her back as she played with the hair at my neck. When she pulled away she curled into my side, resting her head on my chest while my fingers idly stroked the length of her arm.

* * *

**(Samantha)**

It had been two long days; my body needed to sleep, my mind was driving me insane (as if that were any more possible), yet every time I closed my eyes I would either see that poor boy with my brothers eyes staring at me. With his bleeding ankles shackled with rusty chains and his beaten body. If it wasn't the boy it was Sherlock's cries of pain and that broke me more and more. Clearly, sleep, was a battle I would be losing tonight.

I sat up and ran a hand through my mussed hair and looked back at Sherlock, lying there with an arm tucked under his head and staring at the ceiling.

"Seriously, do you ever sleep?"

"Sleep is such a petty obstacle." He blinked, once, twice and then looked at me on the third and chuckled. "We are both well aware of my sleeping habits, Samantha. They are not what one would call…normal."

"Yeah, sorry," I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, "just a little frustrated, that's all."

"Mmm, really, I hadn't noticed," he deadpanned.

"Oh, shut up!" I laughed and gave his leg a light thwack. "I need some air. How's your leg?"

"Well enough."

"Walk with me, don't want to take my chances getting snatched up by a dragon." I pulled on my khakis and tossed him a shirt.

"Samantha, there, are no such thing as dragons," Sherlock groaned, scrunching up his face.

"And you are a fictional character," I said poking him in the chest, "and we traveled through time by way of a magical wall."

Sherlock only stared at me through blank eyes.

"Just saying, I wouldn't be completely surprised if by this time next week we were tied together to a post awaiting a fiery death," I grinned.

"Highly unlikely, darling." His tone was almost mocking as he sauntered over to the door and held it open for me.

"And why would that be, Mr. Holmes?"

He stepped behind me, bringing his face down by my neck and pressed an open mouthed kiss on my exposed skin before whispering into my ear.

"Wrong century."

* * *

There was a light breeze keeping the night air cool and the moon was well lit; a much better place to be with my thoughts than in that stuffy room.

My chances of going back to the market without Addison were pretty much shot; Rowan would be watching, waiting, for me to return and would waste no time in snatching me up. That man reeked of nothing but bad news. Then there was that building that we came across; the one that Mary didn't seem too keen on talking about and I had yet to tell Sherlock. I'd tell him tonight, after we walk awhile and find a place to- "Oof!" My foot sunk in a shallow hole and I stumbled forward, Sherlock grabbed my upper arm and quickly pulled me back by the waist.

"Well," I shrugged and looked around, "I suppose this'll do."

"I quite agree."

We had wandered out to a grassy area past the barns, overlooking a small creek. I slumped down into the grass and stared up at the night sky, letting my eyes slip close to the sound of the water trickling over the rocks. Sherlock sat down beside me and I shifted so that my head sat in his lap, his fingers weaving into my hair.

"I'm ready for sleep now," I teased."

"Far too dangerous."

A nearby cow mooed softly.

"Sherlock, did you hear that," I whispered.

"Mmm, must be some sort of dragon of bovine descent."

I opened my eyes to see him smiling down at me, eyes crinkled in the corners. I loved that smile, my smile. I laughed, reaching back and taking one of his hands in mine, lacing our fingers together before resting it on my chest.

He was healing much better as well; barely had a limp when he walked, we could finally get a move on finding these girls and go home, back to Baker Street. It all boiled back to that damned building and what it was; deep down I knew it was key.

"That ditch we hid in, the day at the market, it was by a building."

"As are most ditches, darling," he replied.

"No, Sherlock," I sat up so I could face him. "Something was wrong; Mary was scared to be close to it."

"What was it, do you think?" His eyebrows furrowed and that long lost curiosity that had been missing in his eyes for so long had begun to flow.

"I don't know, but the scream I heard when we were leaving was enough to let on that it's not exactly a hotel."

Sherlock folded his hands together and allowed them to hover in front of his face, his fantastically curious eyes boring into mine as the corners of his lips began to slowly turn up.

"Well then, we'll just have to find out."

* * *

**A/N: Wow It's been a looong time since I've written as dear old Holmes. Did you miss him? I sure as hell did. So I'm really Hoping a lot of people were busy for labor day weekend and that you didn't think the last chapter didn't suck. I was hoping for a few more reviews, but I know you're reading, and hey I gave you some fluff here, well a little, and I love you all!**

**type something lovely in that little box and make my Samlock happy :D**

**-Shelly**


	17. Spark and Four Letter Words

**Spark and Four Letter Words**

"Well, hello there, Mr. Holmes," I said with a coy smile pressing my hands onto his knees and leaning into him, "I've missed you."

Sherlock unfolded his hands and cocked his head to the side. "Where had I gone, exactly?"

"You didn't really go anywhere," I answered honestly, "You were just so god awful bored all the time. If you had access to that needle of yours-"

"_That_ is behind me, Samantha," he interrupted me with a crass tone.

I held a finger to his lips, "Shh, I know, I was only making a reference." I moved my finger and let my hand graze the stubble on his cheek, teasing the tufts of grey at his temples. "I'm only saying that that spark that is usually so dominant in you has been missing for a little while."

Sherlock's eyebrows arched in question, "And what, pray tell, might that," he paused, clearing his throat, "spark be?"

I laughed lightly, scooting a little closer. "Your eyes betray you Mr. Holmes, when you're curious." I straddled his lap and felt his hands lightly ghost over my hips. "When you're excited." I ran my hands down the length of his shirt, undoing the top three buttons and letting my hands roam over his shoulders before settling on his now heaving chest. "Your heart rate increases slightly." I pressed into him and nipped his earlobe, whispering in his ear, "I do believe your pupils are dilated as well."

Sherlock let out a shaky breath, his hands now wandering up my back.

"Not without reason," his voice huskily replied.

He tried to catch my lips with his, only to have me duck out of the way at the last second.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, I'm not quite finished, Mr. Holmes," I teased, resituating myself on his lap. His fingers flexed against my back as he let out a small moan. I leaned back slightly and finished undoing the buttons on his shirt, tracing a line down the middle of his chest and letting my fingers rest on the hem of his pants, his abdomen making small quivers beneath my touch.

Leaning in, my lips hovering merely an inch away from his, but he stayed put, his eyes burned black with desire.

"Your breath quickens," I said the words the same time my fingers undid the clasp on his pants and quicken it did. One side of my mouth flicked up and my hands were back on his chest, pushing his shirt over his shoulders and onto the grass. My hands found his wrists and slowly I managed to lean him back with his arms at his sides.

"Your muscles go tense." I kissed an old scar on his shoulder before finally placing another feather light kiss to his lips.

"Samantha," he breathed.

"Shhh." I hushed him with another kiss, giving him back his hands allowing them to quickly grab hold of my waist. I traced the seam of his lips with my tongue, pushing my fingers through his hair when he happily welcomed me in. He held me closer to him, inhaling sharply each time my hips precariously came into contact with his own. I nipped his bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw line and then back up again to find his mouth waiting to be claimed.

Sherlock had joined our hands weaving our fingers together and very quickly I found myself on my back, pinned to the ground, hands above my head, with a panting detective hovering above me. I let out a small yelp and for a second a shocked look of fear flashed in his eyes. I grinned, biting my bottom lip and giving him a slight nod.

It was his turn now to slowly unbutton me while he straddled my middle; his warm calloused hands sending shivers through my core. He placed a kiss with each ministration, always looking back up to find my eyes. His thumbs quickly finding the waistband of my Khakis and I had no objection when he slid them down, shortly followed by his own.

"You, Ms. Parker, are a most intriguing anomaly," he smirked, his bangs tickling my forehead as he brought his lips down on mine.

"Ravishing." Another kiss. "Intelligent." Another. "Devoted."

"Hopelessly devoted," I whispered against his mouth with a sly smile.

He stopped for a moment, pulling back; running his hand down the length of my cheek.

"I…you're everything to me, Samantha. Please tell me you realize this." The love and warmth in his deep brown eyes was overflowing. "Absolutely everything," he whispered with a smile.

I pressed a kiss to the palm that was still against my cheek, "Completely," I replied.

I met him halfway, his arms wrapping around my back as our lips met. We rolled again and he lifted me so that I was situated on his lap, letting out a small cry and quite possibly a bite to his shoulder. He firmly held my hips as we moved, exploring each other's mouths and stifling each other's moans. My hand fisted in his dark curls and I pressed my face into his neck to muffle my cries as my body reached its peak; Sherlock's arms pressing me to him as if he were trying to meld us into one being. We toppled over into the grass, panting and damp; he immediately pulled me back into his side and pressed a kiss to my temple and let out a labored breath. I sighed contently, basking in his arms and the moon light.

"Samantha?" His voice rumbled through his chest moments of silence later.

"Hmm?"

"I do believe you have mistaken my curiosity for something else entirely," he stated flatly.

I started with a scoff, then snicker, a giggle, ending in whole hearted tear bringing laughter, soon joined by his own. I turned to face him, opened my mouth but no words came out, resulting in only a shake of the head.

"Of course you're more than welcome to try your assumptions again in the future." Sherlock arched an eyebrow and flashed me a halfcocked smile. "Merely a suggestion, of course."

"Oh, of course," I mocked, brushing the hair from his forehead before gathering up my clothes.

I breathed in the crisp night air, bouncing a bit on my toes with a smile on my face. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted, tomorrow he would be head strong at getting some answers and then on the track to getting done and out of here.

"I think it's time we at least tried to sleep, before we go poking at this building."

"I concur, but might I suggest inside, darling."

"Why Mr. Holmes, are you frightened a bug might take up residence in your head?" I teased.

He encircled my waist, swaying slightly. "Not in the slightest," he grinned pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead and then murmuring into my hair, "It's those damned bovine-dragon creatures we must worry about."

**(Holmes)**

While our evening had proved to be most intoxicating, her words still lingered at the back of mind. Did I indeed have some sort of spark? Watson never mentioned such a thing; he only thought my methods to me irritating, irrational and perhaps eccentric even verging on psychotic. My Samantha took notice to my boredom and in turn wanted to fix it for reasons other than her own.

Well…I had never had that happen before.

Even The Woman always made sure in the end she benefited in some way, shape or form.

And so brings up the mention of the word I don't have any recollection of using to anyone in my life, younger self or now. Surely I have come close on several occasions, but my lips will not make the sound. It pains me that if something regrettably should happen and still I have said nothing that our time might be for naught. This is why women are a distraction; and she is a grand distraction at that. And I do, I do in fact love her, to the point of complete and udder madness.

I tightened my arms around the woman in my arms slightly; she nudged closer and made a small sighing noise.

"Sherlock, what's wrong," she softly cooed.

I smiled down at her and was greeted by a pair of tired blinking sparkling blue eyes; so clear and stunning. Happy. I caressed her shoulder and gently kissed her.

"Absolutely nothing, go back to sleep."

She readjusted her head on my chest and wrapped her arm around my middle, "You need to sleep too," she said while giving my side a scratch.

"Mmm, I think I might just do that," I answered her with a smirk and I felt her laugh beside me. Even if I never slept again I could spend every night such as this; but tonight I would sleep, and sleep well. Well…perhaps not as well as one would see fit, but well enough for me. And I would do it with a busy mind and a full heart.

* * *

**A/N:Whew...just so you guys know...that wasn't exactly planned. Holmes totally took the reins and wanted some sexy times so yea...there you have it... ANYWAY. Where is everyone huh? this place seems dead lately, not just here but everywhere. Maybe because of school as well. I'm in the process of moving so hopefully this last batch of updates will get those of you who aren't caught up yet through until my next update, the boyfriend is threatening to turn off the cable and I keep saying "ONE MORE DAY!" Don't worry new place has it, we just need to ditch it here :D Hope you enjoyed that sweet lemonade...and it was a tall glass if I say so my self.**

**So where are we on Holmes and this issue. It needs to come out right. At least he can say it in his head am I right. Damn I missed writing as Holmes. I might have to do a Holmes one shot later...keep your eyes open! **(it's done now, and up and ready for your depressing pleasure. Yea...its kind of sad. I like sad.)

**Also made a few Samantha and Holmes manips. Links on my profile, they came out okay.**

**And leave me love! I love love!**

**-Shelly**


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